Recoil
by ack1308
Summary: The fight against Behemoth in New Delhi goes horribly wrong. Taylor, almost the only survivor, is sent back into the past by Phir Sē to try to fix matters. But there are complications ...
1. Chapter 1

**Recoil**

* * *

_[Author's Note: This story takes place in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow.]_

_[Author's Note 2: I will accept any legitimate criticism of my work. However, I reserve the right to ignore anyone who says "That's wrong" without showing how it is wrong, and suggesting how it can be made right.]_

* * *

Part 1-0: Introduction

* * *

Blackness surrounded me. I huddled in my rocky grave. I didn't know how long it had been since thunder and lightning had wracked the sky, since the wall had collapsed on top of me.

Saving my life.

The earth had not shaken for a long time now. No more dirt filtered down on me. But it was getting hard to breathe. The air was getting stale. The rocks and earth surrounding me had saved me from Behemoth's fury, but it may yet kill me.

I shifted, turned. Stone ground, something pressed on my ribs. I pushed, tried to dig. There was the faintest sensation of giving, of movement. I shoved harder. Something reluctantly gave way, and I tasted fresh air. Not cool, not sweet; it was hot, baked, filled with dust and smoke, but it was breathable. I greedily sucked it into my lungs anyway.

With that one stone loosened, I scrabbled at the others around me. Some shifted out of the way; others began to grind downward, pressing on my body. I scrambled, shuffled forward. Something trapped my ankle; I kicked frantically, freed myself. And then there was a rush and rumble of tumbling stone, and daylight was suddenly visible.

Dusty, bruised, coughing, bloody, I emerged from the base of a mass of tumbled rubble. Overhead, the sky was a scorched brass colour, stained with smoke from a thousand fires. My costume was torn, almost shredded from me in places.

My mask was damaged; one lens was gone while the other was starred and opaque. I took it off and discarded it; it wasn't going to do me any good now. Likewise, the electronic armband was now dead and dark. It joined my mask on the ground. A pouch held my glasses; astonishingly, they were intact. I put them on. At least now I could see clearly.

I staggered to my feet, favouring the ankle that had been momentarily trapped by the stones. Any bugs I had in my costume had been crushed by the trapping stones, but I reached out now, gathered in my swarms.

What was left of my swarms.

I did not know where Behemoth had gone, but he had rampaged across the landscape, scouring it with fire, lightning and probably radiation as well. And in doing so, he had killed most everything above the ground, and some things below it.

Including most of the insects and other bugs.

But there were some. Cockroaches, long heralded as being the most likely survivors of a nuclear apocalypse, scrambled from niches and cracks. Flies rose here and there. Other bugs, more exotic, native to India, also responded to my call.

I set them to looking for survivors, while I myself stumbled from rubble pile to rubble pile, calling out names. The names of my friends. All the names I could recall of the heroes, the villains, the capes who had attended the call, the Endbringer Truce.

None answered.

My bugs spread far and wide, finding no evidence of human life. Just blasted devastation. Even where the city had been, there were not even the stumps of buildings.

-ooo-

I remembered the battle beforehand; the defence of New Delhi falling apart even before it could be properly formed. Falling back, looking for options.

Meeting Phir Sē.

Arranging the distraction, the damage to Behemoth. Holding the monster in place just long enough.

Giving the word to unleash the 'time bomb'.

And then ... disaster.

Behemoth had not been killed by the blast. He had been ... invigorated. His blasts had wiped out Eidolon's force field, sprayed energy across the battlefield. I had tried to organise an orderly retreat, scouting out safe avenues of escape. A stray blast had trashed my flight pack, set it on fire. Only my costume had saved me, but it had been badly damaged. I'd had to abandon the pack.

Running for my life, dodging falling stones, I had been barely grazed by blobs of flying magma, blasts of fire. Once again, my costume had saved me, but at the cost of its own integrity. My armour panels were shredded, and the spider silk underneath as well.

And then I had taken cover under a leaning wall, sought to catch my breath, use my bugs to locate my teammates.

And the wall had fallen in on me. Everything had gone black.

I didn't know how much time passed before I awoke and freed myself, but I suspected it had been a while.

-ooo-

I sobbed, the dust rasping in my throat.

And then I heard the voice, tiny, distant, through the ears of a scuttling cockroach.

"Taylor ...?"

I followed the sound through my bugs, zeroed in on it.

There was a pile of rubble, up against a flat-sided chunk of rock, remnant of some massive obelisk. Heedless of my already-torn fingernails, I scrabbled away rocks until I uncovered her. She had half a bed on top of her, keeping the rocks off her body. I lifted it away.

It was Lisa.

Tattletale.

She smiled up at me, helped me remove the last few stones. Grinned her familiar vulpine grin. She looked a little the worse for wear; there was a bandage around her throat.

"Hey," she said cheerfully, if a little raspily. "Good to see you. Give me a hand shifting this thing? I can't feel my legs anymore."

I looked at 'this thing', being the chunk of obelisk. The size of two large cars, it lay firmly across her pelvis. I looked at it, dropped to my knees, scraped away dirt. If she was on soft soil, if her legs had just been pressed into it …

She wasn't. They hadn't. The masonry under her was cracked but essentially intact.

Barring the intervention of someone like Panacea, she had basically zero chance of survival.

My heart, which had risen upon the discovery of a living friend, fell once more. I swallowed, turned to her.

She read it in my face, of course. "Fuck," she said quietly. "I thought as much. But I didn't want to look, so I wouldn't have to _know."_

"Fuck," I agreed. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck."_ Tears ran from my eyes.

She grasped my hand. "Sit down," she urged. "There's no need for any urgent rescue attempts, to find help, so sit down. I don't know how much more time I've got, but I'd rather spend it with you."

I sat, my back up against the mass of stone that had killed my best friend.

"What … happened?" I asked. "A wall fell on me. I missed most of it."

She rolled her eyes. "Behemoth took that big blast that came out of nowhere, and he … redirected it. Absorbed it. Survived it. Blasted everything around. Blasted every_one_ around. And then he just … kept going."

I bumped my head back lightly against the stone behind me. _"Fuck._ I'd hoped it would at least do more than piss him off."

She squeezed my hand. "Shit happens," she said. It was a mantra, a statememt of belief.

Tears started in my eyes. "Shit happens," I agreed.

"Something funny," she murmured. "I think I had another trigger event. While all that shit was going on."

"Didn't spontaneously give you the ability to get out of this, did it?" I asked, semi-hopefully.

She shook her head. "No. But I'm seeing a lot more. About everyone and everything."

I looked at her. Was she becoming delirious? Hallucinating?

She grinned at me. "Nope," she said. "I'm perfectly lucid. It's actually kind of cool. I know I'll never get out of this, but I get to answer all those questions that always bothered me, that my power wasn't quite able to answer before."

"Yeah?" I said. "Like what?"

"Your parents," she said. "Just for instance. I know when they were born, when and where they met. Everything about their lives." She raised an eyebrow. "Did you know your mother was a follower of Lustrum when she was in college?"

"Yeah," I said. "She used to talk about it sometimes. About how it's dangerous to let others tell you how to think."

She nodded. "That's true. But when Lustrum started inciting them to attack men, she got clear of the movement."

I nodded. "She used to wonder sometimes if Lustrum really meant it to get that bad." I squeezed her hand.

She smiled. "For something closer to home, how about Coil? I'm sure there's questions you have about him."

* * *

And so, I sat back against warm stone, and held Lisa's hands, as the sun crept down in the sky. She reeled off facts and figures about Coil, as well as Brockton Bay's finest and not so fine, stretching back years, decades. It seemed to make her happy to be able to shock me with her newfound knowledge.

She grew weaker as time passed, and I had to lean forward to hear her whispered words.

Eventually, she stopped to catch her breath during an admittedly fascinating description of how the Travellers got to Earth Bet from Earth Aleph, and how a girl named Noelle Meinhardt became the monster called Echidna.

"Lisa," I said softly. "You can stop now. Please."

She smiled up at me. "It's kind of a relief, to be able to say, enough," she breathed. "I've told my tales. Now I can rest."

My tears ran down my face. "Lisa … I…"

"Taylor," she whispered, her eyes huge in the gathering dusk. Her hand rose, wavering, to touch my cheek, to wipe away the tears it found there. "You kissed me once before, to cure the memory plague. Kiss me again, before I go?"

I leaned forward, kissed her. Her lips tasted of dust and blood.

"Huh." Her voice was barely audible. "Nice."

And then she stopped speaking. Stopped breathing. Stopped doing everything a living person does.

* * *

I cried, then, as I closed her eyes.

Cried as I tore the sleeve from my ruined costume, ripped it down its length to make a spread of cloth to cover her face.

Cried as I carefully stacked stones over her corpse.

Covered her face last.

My last friend.

My best friend.

Dead.

-ooo-

I determined that I would die there too.

After all, there was no point in getting up. For maybe half a mile all around, the devastation continued unabated. My bugs had found no living people, barely even parts of corpses. In my meanderings before I found Lisa, I had seen no hint of the cityscape, the landscape, that had been there before. It was like a terrible war had raged for years over that area of land, and everything had been smashed, pulverised, buried, excavated, and then beaten flat again.

Behemoth's rage, his power, must have been … incandescent.

I wondered that, even under a dozen yards of rock, I had survived.

Well, not for much longer.

Whoever found me, would find me here.

I regretted that I had crossed her hands over her chest before I piled stones on her, because I would have appreciated holding her hand again.

I watched the sun go down into a purple-red dusk, a huge pall of smoke overhead. The stars did not come out; they could not. The smoke and dust were too thick.

I coughed. A chilly wind was whipping across the devastation, picking up dust, causing me to huddle into myself in my thin, torn costume.

The wind picked up more sharply, sending grit stinging against my exposed skin; I covered my eyes.

What the hell was going on here? It felt like some sort of storm was kicking up, right next to where I was. Even dying, I wasn't to be left in peace.

"Seriously?" I yelled, and coughed again. I covered my mouth with my other hand. "Fucking _seriously?"_

And then there was a sharp _crack,_a flash of light, the wind died … and he was standing there.

Phir Sē.

Dishevelled body, opulent clothes and all.

He looked just a little more haggard, a little more drawn, a little more disarranged than before.

My heart had lifted on hearing Lisa's voice. Seeing her face.

It did nothing at all when I saw him.

"What the _fuck,"_ I grated, "are you doing here? What happened? Did your one big shot not work as well as advertised?"

"It should have worked," he said dully. "But the monster was the greater. It took my power, and used it. Sought to kill me. I only escaped by stepping through time, as you see."

"So you made him _stronger_, and more able to kill," I said flatly.

He nodded.

A long silence passed between us.

"Well?" I asked.

"Well, what?" he asked.

"What the fuck are you going to do to _fix_ your fucking mess?" I yelled.

He looked at me and spread his long hands. "I have used much of my power. It needs to recoup. Stepping through time … is not easy."

"So you can't just build another fucking time bomb and scorch his ass to small pieces, then?" I asked him.

"I do not know how to locate him. My base, my equipment, is gone," he said. "Rocks were falling when I stepped. My teleporting friend, I fear, is dead."

_"Fuck," _I ground out.

"I can do one thing," he said in his accented English.

"What's that?" I asked incautiously.

He smiled. "I can send someone back in time to warn about this, so that it never happens."

I frowned. "You mean me."

He gestured to the horizon of blasted, scorched rock, barely visible in the shadowed night. "I see no other volunteers."

"What makes you think I'm going to fucking _volunteer_ to get sent on a one-way trip back in time?" I growled.

He leaned forward. "Back then …" he said gently. "Your friends are all still alive."

And there he had me. I couldn't go forward. I had not the energy.

But if he sent me _back …_

I could fix things.

Fix it so this shit never happened.

Fix it so we _won_ next time.

Painfully, feeling every creak and crackle, I pushed myself to my feet.

"Right," I said. "Do I need to do anything special?"

He shook his head. "No," he told me. "Just stand there. The effect will take a little while to take hold. It might help to breathe deeply."

I started breathing deeply, while shimmers of his power began to build up around me. The wind started kicking up again, the grit once more stinging my skin, the chill making me goosepimple. I wrapped my arms around me, looked down at Lisa's grave.

_Bye, Lisa,_ I told her silently. _Thanks for … everything._

While I was thinking about it, I told everyone else goodbye as well. Brian, Alec, Aisha, Rachel. Dennis, Weld, Missy, Lily, Sabah.

* * *

The power nimbus around me was making it quite hard to see what was going on outside. Directly overhead, I could see a spiral swirl in the clouds of smoke. Centred on _me_. That was more than a little sobering.

"How far back am I going?" I called against the hum of his power effect. "Couple of months, a year?"

"Oh my, no," he replied, his very white teeth flashing in the glow of his own power. "I am sending you back twenty years."

My mind short-circuited. _He did __**not j**__ust say twenty ye-_

I went.

-ooo-

It was a good thing that I had been breathing deeply, because I fell in the ocean.

Water went in my eyes, up my nose, and into my mouth. But I wasn't immediately out of breath, so I was able to gather my wits, tread water, and try to get my bearings.

It was night time, and I was in the ocean, in the tattered remains of my costume, which even now were being worried and torn away by surging waves. Under which was my, well, underwear. Which, while it made reasonable swimwear, was not best suited for holding in body heat. And this water was _cold._

But I didn't have an option. Already, the remains of my costume were becoming waterlogged, dragging me down. My armour panels were the worst culprits. I could hardly stay afloat; finding the zipper, I pulled it down, wriggled out of the costume. It sank without a trace. I struggled to keep my head above water.

Out of nowhere, a white hull came slicing past me, heeled far over in the (I realised) howling wind and driving rain. I could have put out my hand and touched it. But in another moment, it was gone.

And a moment later, from the direction it had gone, I heard a terrible splintering crash.

Lightning briefly illuminated the scene, like God's own flash photography. I saw two boats, sailing yachts by the rigging, locked together and slowly sinking.

A wave slapped me in the face, and I choked and went under for a moment, before clawing my way back to the surface again. My glasses were gone, lost to the waves.

I had no idea where I was, no idea which way shore was, and no idea where even the nearest non-sinking boat was.

And then an actinic glare washed over me, pinned me to the surface of the water like a bug to corkboard. I heard a distant shout, and a foghorn. Then the rumble of engines, and a much larger craft shouldered its way through the waves toward me.

I was spending all my time staying afloat, so I had no time to wave. Besides, waving involves lifting one's arms out of the water, when they are much better employed keeping one's head out of the water.

But they'd seen me, and they were coming for me.

I never saw the chunk of wreckage behind me. Just as the rescue boat pulled up alongside me, there was a tremendous smash to the back of my head.

I struggled feebly to swim, to keep my head above water, to reach the boarding net. My fingers tangled in rough fibres, but I had no strength.

A massive splash beside me. Then a strong arm holding me tightly, while another hung on to a rope that was steadily hauled upward. A warm, kindly voice. "I've got you. You'll be fine, now."

A _familiar _voice.

And then I knew nothing.

-ooo-

I awoke in a cramped bunk, wrapped in heavy blankets. Despite them, I shivered. The warmth in me had fled with the immersion in the chilly ocean water. But feeling was starting to return.

The bunk rocked back and forth, back and forth. I could feel the thrumming of powerful engines through my spine. I decided that I liked it. I loved boats, especially rescue boats.

There was a constriction about my head, pressure on the side of my face. I wormed my hand up under the blankets, touched –

"Careful, you don't want to loosen the bandage."

The voice was maddeningly familiar. I gave up my attempt to see what had happened to my head, and looked around. My head immediately began to ache strenuously.

The young man who sat there in his ill-fitting storm gear could not have been more than nineteen. He was slender, dark-haired and fresh-faced and wore what my fuzzy eyes interpreted as an anxious expression.

"Hi," I said, faintly.

He smiled. It was like the sun coming out. I frowned. I was looking at him mostly upside down and sideways, not to mention without my glasses, but the face – I _knew_ that face.

"Hi," he replied. "How are you feeling? You took quite a knock to the head."

"I'll tell you once my brain decides to stop rattling," I said. "Are you the one …"

"Who jumped in after you?" he asked, then blushed. "Yeah, that was me."

"Thanks," I told him feelingly. "My name's Taylor," I said. "What's yours?"

"Danny," he said. "Danny Hebert."

* * *

End of Part 1-0


	2. Chapter 2

**Recoil**

* * *

Part 1-1: Recollections

* * *

I stared for a moment. "I'm sorry - _what_ did you say?"

"Danny Hebert," he said, just a little defensively. "It's my name."

"Oh," I said weakly.

_Shit,_ I thought. _It's really him._I knew that bewildered look too well, even half upside down and without my glasses. This was too much to deal with, all at once. I closed my eyes for just a second, tried to clear my spinning thoughts.

* * *

When I opened them again, the cabin was dark and my only companions were the thrumming of the engines and the smell of sea salt.

I'd had concussions before; the symptoms were not unfamiliar to me. Which helped make the transition, the sense of lost time, a little less jarring. But not much.

_Fucking concussions._

It took me a few moments to realise that the blankets had been drawn up to my chin. _That must have been Danny – Dad._

I could just see him doing that, I really could. Even twenty years younger, my Dad was still a gentle, caring man. _Only ..._and here my stomach gave a lurch totally unconnected with the movement of the boat _... only this wasn't a caring gesture to his daughter. He doesn't __**know** __me. He's just being nice to the girl whose life he saved._

Which drew attention to the other elephant in the room. _This wasn't a joke. Phir Sē really did send me back twenty years._

_Fuck._

_Okay, how do I deal with this?_

I took a deep breath. _One step at a time. I'm a time traveller with no way back, and a minor to boot. I have exactly zero documentation here and now. No official existence. This could be a problem._

Gingerly, I reached up, felt the back of my head. There was a bandage that went right around my skull, with a thick pad back there. It was tender, but not overly painful. But the impact had been enough to give me what I hoped was a relatively mild concussion.

_Which could give me an out, if I play this right._

However, I did have my other hole card. My powers. Control of insects, which, at this moment, extended to simple marine life.

Cautiously, I extended my powers. I didn't want anyone seeing something strange.

Puzzled, I frowned; I wasn't picking up any bugs on the boat at all. _That's weird._ Had they disinfected it before they set off? It didn't seem likely.

And then I saw a fly buzzing across the cabin, zig-zagging with the motion of the boat. I focused my attention on it. Nothing. It didn't alter course, and I couldn't sense it.

_What the _**_fuck?_**

And then the realisation hit me.

When Phir Sē sent me back in time, he had also cut me off from my powers. They were gone. I had no access to them.

_Fuck._

_How the fuck do I deal with this?_

I was still trying to figure that one out when I fell asleep again.

This time, however, I didn't simply have a moment of missed time.

This time, I dreamed.

-ooo-

_Lisa and I sat atop the square-sided chunk of rock that had killed her in reality, our legs dangling over the side. Below our feet was a mound of rubble; I did not want to see what it concealed._

_We were holding hands, just as we had done ... before. Before she died._

_**This is a dream, **__I said. __**You died. **__My voice echoed hollowly in my head._

_She gave me that irritating vulpine grin of hers. "Well, duh," she agreed readily. "This isn't really happening. It's just your subconscious working things out for itself."_

_**Yeah well ... **__I said awkwardly. __**I miss you **__**so **__**goddamn much**__._

_She squeezed my hand. "I know," she said. "And I appreciate it."_

_**There's a logical flaw there somewhere ... **__I said slowly._

_"Silly Taylor," she said fondly. "Logic doesn't belong in dreams." She reached up to her throat with her free hand, and worked the bloodstained bandage off of it._

_I looked curiously at her. There wasn't a mark on her throat, now. __**What was the bandage for? **__I asked._

"_Oh," she said off-handedly. "You remember the guy Cody from what I was telling you about the Travellers?"_

_I nodded. __**Vaguely, **__I replied._

"_Yeah," she said. "Well, he fucked up and they basically sold him to Accord. Accord sold him on to the Yàngbǎn. He was pissed about that, so he went and wounded Chevalier pretty badly, and killed Accord. Crushed my windpipe, so I had to give myself a tracheotomy."_

_She gave me her fox-like grin. "No fun, let me tell you. For a moment there, I thought he was going to kill me anyway. Then he left. They found me, gave me field surgery, so I could breathe normally. And then Behemoth did his thing and the place fell down anyway."_

_**Damn, **__I said. __**Okay. I have a problem. **__**You're the smartest person in the room. I've lost my powers. How do I go from here? What do I do? How do I fix this?**_

_"Oh, Taylor," she whispered. "Weren't you listening? I already told you how."_

_I blinked as sand stung my eye. __**You knew this was going to happen? **__I asked._

_She grinned again. "Didn't I tell you? I know so much more than I did before."_

_**That's not an answer, **__I replied. The wind was whipping up, sand obscuring the sun._

_"I know," she said softly. Her voice was getting very faint._

_**What's happening? **__I asked in alarm._

_She looked at me, her eyes large and sad. "You're waking up. Kiss before I go?"_

_I leaned over and kissed her. Her lips tasted of dust and blood._

-ooo-

I opened my eyes with a gasp, sat half-upright in bed.

A stranger, a woman sat back with a start. She held a stethoscope in one hand.

"Christ," she said. "You gave me a fright. Do you always come awake like that?"

"Who are you?" I asked warily, evading the question. "Where's the boy?"

"The boy - oh, you mean young Hebert.". She smiled. "He's helping out on deck. Oh sorry, my name's Nina. Nina Veder. I'm what passes for the ship's doctor.". A conspiratorial grin. "Just an EMT, but I volunteered, so here I am."

_Veder? As in __**Greg **__Veder?_

I searched her features. As far as I could tell without my glasses, they were good-natured, open, friendly. She looked to be in her early thirties.

She blinked a little at my intense scrutiny. "What?"

I let my eyes drop away. "I ... thought for a moment that you looked familiar. That I might know you. I don't. Sorry.". Extracting my arm from under the covers, I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand. "I think I need glasses or something. Or is blurry vision a side effect of whatever happened to me?"

She frowned. "You don't _remember?"_

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I've been trying really hard, to remember anything at all, and all I've been getting out of it is a headache."

"Stop trying," she said at once. "Don't force it. Danny - the Hebert boy - told me you said your name was Taylor. Do you remember doing that?"

I nodded. I couldn't very well deny it. "That's about all I _am_ sure of."

She nodded in return. "Well, here we have a bit of a puzzle. You undoubtedly came out of the water. But none of the yachts have any 'Taylor' listed as a crew member. Or anyone with Taylor as a surname, for that matter."

She frowned. "What's more, everyone else we pulled from the water was fully dressed. _You_ were in your underwear, and you have bruises and cuts – on you that you didn't get from being in the water."

She gave me a searching look. "Do you remember _anything_ about what happened to you?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. I was being sincere; Nina Veder was a nice person, no matter what I might think of her distant relative Greg. She didn't deserve to be lied to.

But in order to secure the survival of the human race, I decided coldly. I would lie and cheat and kill if I had to. Lisa deserved a second chance; so did Brian, Alec, Aisha and Rachel.

Me? I was _on _my second chance.

Even if I didn't have my powers any more. I'd have to make this work _somehow._ The world was more or less depending on me.

-ooo-

Moments later, the cabin became remarkably crowded with the entry of two more people. One was Danny; immediately preceding him was a large, heavy-set man with a salt-and-pepper beard. I squinted; without my glasses, it was hard to tell, but …

"I'm George Hebert, master of the _Ocean Road_," announced the bearded man. He had the sort of personality that fills even a large room; in this cramped cabin, his presence was almost overpowering. And I knew him also; not as well as I knew Danny, but I did know him.

"So you're the little thing Danny-boy pulled from the ocean," he said directly to me.

Danny's parents had had him relatively late in life; George, my grandfather, was forty-two when Danny was born, and his wife Dorothy ("call me Dot") was thirty-eight.

I nodded. "Uh – yes, sir," I replied meekly.

George Hebert had suffered a stroke and died when I was about ten. His wife had survived him by six months before quietly passing away in her sleep. I had met them a few times, but not often and not for long; George had never approved of Mom, and so relations had been strained.

"So what the _fuck_," he said bluntly, "were you doing in the water in your fucking skivvies, not even a fucking life jacket? Were you _trying_ to commit suicide or something?"

Like Dad, he had apparently had a bit of a temper. Unlike Dad, he was not afraid to show it.

I lowered my eyes. "I don't know," I said softly. "I can't remember."

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me – actually _shook_ me. My teeth rattled in my head.

"Can't _remember?_ You stupid little idiot! Because of you, my only son jumped overboard in a howling storm to save your sorry ass. Both of you could have fucking drowned, because you couldn't take _basic fucking precautions!"_

"Captain!" snapped Nina Veder. "Leave her alone! She's got some sort of amnesia, and you're _not helping!"_She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands off me, then pushed him by main force back toward the entryway. He seemed taken aback; this was probably the only thing that allowed her to move him at all.

Danny stepped in closer. "Sorry about Dad," he said quietly. "He's a bit … high-strung."

I mustered a grateful smile for him, but mainly I was trying to listen in on the conversation that Nina was having with Danny's father. She was trying to keep her voice down, but the cabin was not large.

"She's got unusual injuries," she was explaining in an undertone. "She can't remember anything before being pulled on board. I think she may have been abducted, kept on one of the yachts …" Still taking, she pushed him out the door.

Danny smiled back at me. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Your head all right? You caught it a terrific bump back there."

I shrugged. "I'm getting better." Of its own accord, my hand crept from under the covers and grasped his. "I want to thank you for saving my life."

He gulped and squeezed my hand, his face turning red.

"I'm just glad I was there at the right time," he mumbled.

"So am I," I replied fervently. "So am I."

He sat by my bed, and held my hand as if it were his most precious possession.

"So where are you from?" he asked, at length.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said. "Nina – Ms Veder – seems to think I've got some sort of amnesia from that bump on the head. All I know is my name, and that's about it."

"Oh Christ," he said, looking stricken. "I'm so sorry, Taylor."

I smiled at him. "Don't worry about it, Danny. I'm sure it will all come good. Actually, you can help me with something there. What's the date today?"

I had a halfway suspicion that I knew. Danny's next words confirmed it.

"Seventeenth of October, why?"

I made my face a blank. "I thought it might help me remember something, anything."

"Did it?" he asked eagerly.

I shook my head; his face fell. "Sorry, Danny. But thanks for trying." I smiled again. "And at least I know something now that I didn't before."

I knew a lot that I hadn't known earlier. I knew the date, and I knew the year.

-ooo-

October sixteenth, nineteen eighty-nine. A large regatta of ocean-going racing yachts had been hit by an unseasonal storm ranging in off the Atlantic. Within minutes, most were damaged and foundering. Rescue boats had put out from Brockton Bay and other communities along the coast; due to the short notice, they had been woefully undercrewed, taking any volunteers who could perform essential duties.

George Hebert had captained one of these boats, the one I was on now. I had not known, though, that Danny had volunteered to go out with his boat on this specific occasion.

Most of the yachts had sunk without a trace; quite a few of the crews had gone down with them. The survivors had told of utter chaos on the water, of collisions and near misses as they tried to keep way on so as not to broach and go under.

I could well believe it, now. It was into that hell that Phir Sē had dropped me. And I would have died there, had it not been for the _Ocean Road_, and the heroism of Danny Hebert.

I had a great deal to think about. But at least now I knew where I was starting from.

_I have a lot of planning to do._

-ooo-

By the time the _Ocean Road_ neared the coast, I felt well enough to get out on deck. Danny was the only person on board who was anywhere near my size, so I wore a pair of his trousers with the belt pulled in to the last notch, and a pullover that would have made me a good-sized tent.

The rest of the survivors that had been pulled on board the _Ocean Road_ were men and women of mature age, and they eyed me with puzzlement, obviously having no idea where I came into the situation. I preferred not to let the matter come up, sticking as close to Danny as I could, to discourage questions.

"Why are you squinting?" he asked, as we peered toward the coast.

"My eyes are all blurry," I replied truthfully. "I think I need glasses or something."

"Wait here," he said, and disappeared below. I did as he said; it was nice, to be out in the sunlight, to taste the sea air.

A line from the Bible passed through my mind. _Those that go down to the sea in ships …_

In a very short time, he reappeared, with something in his hand. "Here," he said. "Try these."

I took them; they were glasses.

"I can't take your glasses," I said. "You need them."

"Spare pair," he told me. "See if they help."

Such was his eagerness to be of assistance, I agreed. When I fitted them over my face, my vision cleared. They weren't perfect, but they were close enough to my prescription that it helped a lot.

I looked at his face, seeing it clearly for the first time. The anxious expression, eager to please.

Paradoxically, now that I could see him more clearly, the less he looked like how I remembered my father; the general lines of resemblance were subsumed in the finer detail, the flushed cheeks, the full head of hair, the puppy-dog look.

"Well?" he asked, after I had not spoken for several moments.

"They're perfect," I said quietly. "Thank you."

Stretching up – I was tall for my age, but then, so was he – I kissed him on the cheek. He blushed crimson.

We looked at each other clearly for the first time. I forgot that he was supposed to grow up to become my father; right at that moment, he was the gawky teenage boy who had risked his life to pull me from the water, who had gifted me with sight once more.

A wordless moment hung between us, stretched.

And then, whoever was in the wheelhouse had obviously spotted us, because a moment later, the foghorn cut loose. We both jumped and laughed. The moment passed, and we turned to look forward over the bow once more.

-ooo-

The storm had blown over, leaving skies clear and blue. Under our feet, the boat moved forward at a fast clip, hitting the waves and cleaving through them in a barrage of spray. Breathing deep of the moisture-laden air, I stood up toward the bow with Danny as he told me about Brockton Bay.

Even allowing for a hometown boy's pride, he painted a glorious picture. Business was booming, there were no gangs to speak of – even Lung was no doubt an intractable child in Japan at the moment – and things were looking up.

I was going over the gradually growing 'to-do' list in my head – adding 'make sure my parents meet at the right time' – when I gradually became aware that there was something missing from the harbour as the Ocean Road made its way into Brockton Bay proper. Something off to the right, to the north, wasn't right.

I had already realised that the Protectorate base in the Bay wouldn't be there - the Protectorate didn't even_exist_ yet - but this was something else.

It took me a moment or two to figure it out, from this angle. I could see merchant ships, container ships, tied up at dockside, loading or unloading cargoes. Doing business. Steaming out to sea, or coming in to port. And then, like one of those puzzles where you have to hold your eyes just right, it clicked into perspective.

The Boat Graveyard wasn't there. Lord's Port was still in full operation.

All my life, the Graveyard had been a blight, an eyesore, on the city. All those ships, unable to sail away, gradually taking on water, sinking at their moorings. Gradually releasing pollution into the Bay.

And now – it had never been. There was the possibility that it never _would_ be.

Something to think about.

-ooo-

As the _Ocean Road_ neared its berth, I was startled to see a brightly coloured craft chugging its way across the Bay, heading from right to left. It seemed so different from the rest of the water traffic, neither inbound nor outbound.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing.

"Oh," said Danny cheerfully. "That's the ferry. We can go on it later, if you want. It's a fun ride. It's been in continuous operation for …"

* * *

I tuned him out. This was _the_ ferry, upon which my father would strive against bureaucratic indifference and stonewalling, year after year, trying to get reinstated. Here, it was in its heyday.

Here was Brockton Bay itself, in its heyday.

The ferry was just a symbol of that, minor but important.

_I can see it all,_ I realised. _I can see the way it was, the way it might become._

_I can change things._

It was a sobering thought.

_But can I change them for the better, or will I change them for the worse?_

_And what can I actually accomplish without powers?_

It was an even more sobering thought.

* * *

End of Part 1-1


	3. Chapter 3

**Recoil**

* * *

Part 1-2: Things Change

* * *

The _Ocean Road_ came in to the jetty to a small crowd of onlookers; mainly friends and family of the crew, and of the rescuees. I was fairly certain of one thing; I wouldn't see anyone that I knew from my life in Brockton Bay. Not from twenty years in the past.

Leaning on the rail, I watched as Danny went off on his father's orders to perform some nautical task farther along the deck. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed to me that the older men were treating him with a modicum of respect, slapping him on the shoulder and calling him 'Dan' rather than 'Danny boy'. It seemed that risking his life to save a teenage girl from the ocean had marked some obscure rite of passage among them.

* * *

Nina Veder came up alongside me just as I turned to watch the dockside come closer. "You've got glasses," she observed.

"Yes," I agreed. "Danny Hebert loaned a spare pair to me."

"And you can see properly through them?" she asked, with mild surprise.

"Almost," I admitted. "I'm still getting a little bit of blurriness, but it's not nearly as bad."

"That's still a little bit of a fortunate coincidence," she said. "That you can see through his glasses at all, I mean."

"I'm not arguing with that," I agreed untruthfully. Dad had always needed stronger lenses than mine, but of course his eyes had been getting worse with age. It made a certain amount of sense that our prescriptions were similar at such a close age. "I wouldn't have asked, but he did offer, and they do help a lot."

"He's a nice boy, isn't he?" she asked casually.

"Yes," I agreed candidly, turning to face her. My hair whipped across my face in the freshening breeze, and I tucked it behind my ear. "He's nice and sweet and kind. I like him."

"Just 'like'?" she pressed gently.

"Just 'like'," I assured her with a smile. Her expression, which I would not have been able to pick without the borrowed glasses, was appraising, speculative. Upon closer examination, I still could not find any trace of the features of her as yet unborn relative, which was good. I liked Nina Veder; she was firm and kind and stood up for her patients.

"It's not unusual for people in your circumstance to latch on to the first person to show them kindness, to try to form an instant attachment," she observed, her eyes on the approaching dockside.

"Sorry to disappoint," I returned, not sure where this was going.

"Oh, I'm not disappointed," she replied. "I'm intrigued. I want to find out what your life was like, before, that you're so self-possessed now. What challenges you've overcome that lets you face this one without worry."

_Fuck,_ I thought. _She's too damn perceptive. I wonder if Lisa was like this before she triggered?_

The thought of Lisa, dead in my arms just a few days past by my reckoning, filled my eyes with tears.

"Ch-challenges?" I managed.

She was perceptive, all right. She noticed me tearing up almost immediately, and I found a handkerchief in my hand before I could even start to sniffle.

"Sorry ... sorry," she said as she put her arm around me. The warm gesture, totally unlike Danny's gift of the glasses, undid me altogether. I had just enough self-control to pull off the glasses before I was crying in great gulping sobs, getting the shoulder of Nina's coat thoroughly damp with more than sea spray.

"It's okay," she told me. "It's okay. We'll get this all sorted out. We'll find your family for you, Taylor. It's okay."

I wasn't crying about that, of course, but I found it convenient to let her think so. I'd thought I had cried myself out when I buried Lisa, but apparently I had been wrong. Or maybe it was the concussion manifesting as more mood swings.

_Fucking concussions._

-ooo-

By the time I had finished and was wiping my eyes and nose, we were tied up at the jetty. The sun was bright overhead, seagulls were circling and screaming, gentle waves were lapping at the pier, and it looked like a gorgeous day for Brockton Bay.

Meanwhile, I had puffy eyes, a red nose, and my hair looked a fright. _Way to make a good first impression._

I had expected somehow to walk off the rescue boat with Danny, but Nina Veder had her hand on my arm. "I've been in contact with the shore," she explained. "If you're a missing person, maybe we can find out where you're missing _from."_ She gestured, and I saw a police car pulled up at the end of the jetty. _Great, now they'll think I'm some kind of criminal._

"Can I just tell Danny where I'm going?" I asked. "And see if he wants his glasses back?"

Nina nodded. "Good idea," she said. But she followed me along the deck to where Danny was working.

He turned to look at me. "Oh hey, Taylor," he said cheerfully. "Wow, what's up? You look like you've been crying."

I shook my head. "It's not important," I told him. "Look, Ms Veder and I are going to talk to the police, see if they can figure out who I really am." I took the glasses off, and everything went fuzzy. "Do you want these back, or can I keep them a bit longer?"

He waved them away. "Keep 'em," he said magnanimously. "You can give them back when you get a new pair."

I smiled. "Thanks, Danny. Uh, how can I get in touch with you?"

"Uh –" he began.

Nina stepped in. "I know the Heberts," she told me. "I'll be able to help you with that. But right now, we need to go and see if you match any missing-persons files."

"Okay," I said. "Bye, Danny. Thanks for everything." I didn't want to embarrass him with another kiss on the cheek, so I shook his hand, and moved with Nina to the gangplank that led on to the jetty.

As we walked along the jetty, passing people who were reuniting with their loved ones, I noticed one young man in his early twenties, with a woman at his side holding a baby. He was fairly heavily-built, and had bright red hair. He looked Nina over, then me, then straight on to where Danny was working on deck.

"Hey, Danny!" he bellowed, waving his hands over his head.

"Be right with you, Alan!" came the faint but distinct reply.

I didn't react. Red hair ... that _had_ to be Alan Barnes, Dad's former best friend. The infant couldn't be Emma; it would have to be her older sister ... what was her name again? I had forgotten.

In any case, I had been wrong. There _were_ people in Brockton Bay that I would know, that I had known in the future.

I wondered if I could use this in any way.

Without my powers, I needed every advantage I could get.

-ooo-

Nina Veder and I rode back to the Brockton Bay central police station in silence. I spent my share of time gawking out the window; the city was an odd blend of the familiar and the not so familiar, just enough to throw me off.

Those buildings and landmarks that I knew were ... newer. Fresher. Lacking twenty years of wear and tear – and in some places, neglect – they looked strange, even when I knew them. And some were missing altogether, of course. There was a bunch of low-rise office buildings where the Medhall Corporation complex should have been, and the Forsberg Gallery simply wasn't there at all.

And of course the lake Leviathan had left in the middle of the city wasn't there either. But then, I had seen that formed. I'd _been_ there when it was formed. I'd nearly drowned in the damned thing.

There was something else strange about the city, something that I couldn't place. It took me most of the car ride to work it out.

No gang tags.

* * *

I had grown up seeing E88 and ABB and Merchants tags on buildings. These were just ... absent. Some of the more run-down buildings had graffiti, but it was in no way near the volume that one would see on the same buildings in twenty years' time. But there was nothing there for any of the big gangs.

It took me a moment to figure it out, but then it was obvious. Kaiser would still be a boy, and so would Lung. Allfather would have needed his recruits to build his Empire.

This was Brockton Bay, cleaner, brighter, looking to the future.

I had seen that future. It wasn't anything to look forward to.

-ooo-

"What's the matter, Taylor?" asked Nina. I must have been looking pensive.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said. "It's just ...weird. I keep feeling like I should know this city." I put a hopeful look on my face. "Could this mean I've been here before?"

She frowned. "Possibly, possibly not. Deja vu is a thing, after all. This could be your brain seizing on to what it sees in an attempt to find anything at all familiar in strange surroundings."

I nodded. "I guess. I still can't remember anything." I smiled at her. "But I can still remember being pulled on to the boat, so I guess that's a good thing."

She nodded. "It is. It means that whatever the cause of your amnesia, it's strictly retrograde."

"Retrograde?" I asked.

Her voice took on a professorial tone. "Retrograde amnesia is where you can't recall anything before a certain point. Anterograde amnesia is where you have trouble forming new memories."

I shivered. "That second one sounds nasty. Can you have both at the same time?"

She nodded. "There was a case where a man had both, after a botched surgery. Not only did he lose the two years of his life prior to the surgery, but he could never remember anything that happened to him after the surgery."

I looked at her. "You're not just an EMT, are you?"

She grinned suddenly. "Well, there's nothing wrong with _your_ ability to join the dots. No, I'm a psychologist in my day job. I just also work as an EMT on a volunteer basis."

"And now I'm your new pet project," I said flatly.

Her eyes twinkled. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so I let it be. Besides, I had other things to worry about, and only a short time to figure out how to get around them.

We rode the rest of the way in silence.

-ooo-

"Name?" asked the police sergeant as he filled in the fingerprint form.

"Taylor Snow," I responded as if automatically, then blinked. I turned slowly to Nina, who was staring at me. "My last name," I said. "I remembered my last name."

Mentally, I apologised to the author of the _Ice & Fire _short stories; I understand his Earth Aleph counterpart would write those stories into complete novels. But the naming system for royal bastards had stuck in my mind. And they wouldn't come out for another few years, so no-one should get suspicious. I hoped.

Nina smiled. "That's marvellous, Taylor!" she said happily.

I nodded, my own smile matching hers. "Maybe they can find out where I come from, now," I agreed.

Not that I had any intention of _that_ happening.

-ooo-

For some reason, I had envisaged a police interrogation room, stern officers surrounding me, probing me with awkward questions.

The reality was much different.

I sat in a comfortable chair in a conference room like virtually any other. Nina sat beside me; I had a steaming cup of tea in front of me.

Opposite us were two police officers, one male and one female. Their questions were gently worded, and directed as much to Nina as to me.

I didn't look quite as much the invalid as I had on the boat; Nina had changed my dressings and decided that the bump on the back on my head had gone down sufficiently. While the cut on my left cheek still needed a covering, it was much less prominent than before. Nina had told me that it would leave a scar, but that it would fade with age. I wasn't overly worried.

"So how do you know your name is Taylor Snow?" pressed the male officer.

I shrugged. "Taylor's what came to mind when I went to tell him my name, and Snow just popped out when I wasn't thinking about it," I said.

"Tell who?" asked the female officer.

"That would be young Danny Hebert, the one who rescued her," put in Nina.

"He was the first one she spoke to?" asked the female officer. "Perhaps we should speak to him."

I smiled wryly. "Probably not necessary. From what I recall, I told him my name, he told me his, then I closed my eyes for a second and opened them an hour later."

They both looked at Nina. She nodded. "She's been suffering from a mild concussion, but the symptoms seem to have more or less abated."

"So this Danny Hebert didn't know her from before the incident?" asked the male officer.

"He says not," confirmed Nina. "She was a stranger to everyone aboard ... including the yacht crewmembers we rescued."

Both officers looked at me. I shrank a little in my seat, under the combined stare.

"According to them, of course," she amended her statement.

They didn't have pictures of all the yacht crews, but they brought in as many as they could, faxed in from various locations. I looked at them each in turn. None, of course, were familiar to me. However, I frowned once or twice over pictures of people I knew were from yachts which had gone down with all hands.

"I'm sorry," I said, handing the last one back. "Some of these, maybe ... but nothing definite."

I had been brought sandwiches with my second cup of tea, and I nibbled one now.

"Taylor," said the female police officer suddenly, "do you believe you were abducted?"

I thought about that, then looked at her. "I don't know. I don't think so. Ms Veder found bruising on me, and there's the cut on my face, but ... I could have gotten that being tossed around inside a yacht in heavy weather, right?"

Both officers looked at one another, then back at me. "It's plausible," said Nina carefully. "What are you saying, that you might have been on one of the boats voluntarily?"

"It's a possibility," I pointed out. "Say I was the girlfriend of one of the crewmembers. I'm fairly sure I'm not eighteen yet, so it would cause problems if anyone else knew about me, so the crew kept it a secret that I was on board. It's night time, I'm trying to sleep, the yacht gets in trouble, I get thrown around, I struggle out as it sinks, and I get picked up by Captain Hebert's boat."

There was silence as I finished speaking, then went back to my sandwich. Ham and tomato. Not bad, actually.

Nina and the two officers looked at one another.

"It's definitely plausible," said the male officer.

"Fits all the available facts," added the female officer.

"But it still leaves the question of _who_ Taylor Snow is," said Nina. "Where she's from."

"Well, we're checking around for missing persons reports, but nothing's come through with her description on it yet," said the male officer.

"Why don't you put it on-" I said, and stopped. I had been just about to say 'put it online', but I recalled just in time that 'online' barely meant anything in this day and age.

Nina looked at me. "Put it on what, Taylor?"

I hunched my shoulders. "It's just a stupid idea," I muttered.

"No," she said. "It's not a stupid idea until someone says it's stupid."

I shook my head. "I was just going to say, why don't you put my face on milk cartons, like they do with missing kids, but in reverse."

The male officer frowned. "We _could_. But ... "

I nodded, caught his drift. "But then any creeper who wanted to get access to a teenage girl with no memory could just pretend to be my dad or uncle or whatever."

Both Nina and the female officer gave me appraising looks. I sipped my tea, and pretended not to notice.

-ooo-

"But how could she simply ... _not exist?"_ asked Dorothy, Danny's mother.

"I've seen it before," said Nina. "Hospital records are damaged or destroyed, people fall through the cracks all the time. Snow might not even be her recorded last name; her mother may have divorced and reverted to her maiden name."

"And you think this happened here?" asked George gruffly.

She nodded. "It's the only feasible explanation. I've heard of any number of cases of children, her age and younger, who only enter the system when they end up in court. I've handled a few, assessing their mental state for trial purposes."

I sat quietly on the sofa with Danny, while the adults talked in the kitchen.

"So what's going to happen now?" he asked quietly.

I sighed. "Ms Veder says it'll be another twenty-four to forty-eight hours before they get back all the replies they're going to get. So I'm sort of in limbo till then."

"Damn," he said. "That sucks."

I nodded. "She says that if I had been reported missing, the police would have gotten the notification by now. Whoever my parents are, if they're still alive even, they either don't know I'm missing, or don't care."

"So where does that leave you?" he asked.

"Well, once they make sure I don't have a criminal record ..." I began.

He snorted. "You, a criminal?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, me. Taylor Snow, criminal warlord of Brockton Bay." _God, if only he knew._

A mental pause. _He did know, once upon a time._

_And he accepted me, even then. Even when I had kept it from him._

Danny was studying me intently. "You looked so serious all of a sudden. What is it?"

I shook my head. "I was just thinking, I can't imagine being a criminal." I shrugged. "Anyway, once they clear that possibility, they can start working out what documents they can get issued to me by court order, and I stop being a non-person again." I rolled my eyes. "So I can have the right to attend school, apply for work, and pay taxes. Whee."

"Yeah, whee," he agreed. Our eyes met, and I met his grin with my own.

Danny and I had always been able to connect on a certain level, even when he was my father. Now, he was my contemporary, but that connection was still there.

It was a good feeling to have. Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

In the kitchen, voices were being raised. Or rather, _a_ voice. That of George Hebert.

"You can't be serious! You want us to put her up _here?"_

"Now, now, dear," said Dorothy soothingly, "calm down. Your blood pressure, you know."

"Damn and blast my blood pressure, Dot!" snapped George. "Why can't the girl stay with you, Nina?"

"Because my home situation is _unsuitable_ for a girl of her age," said Nina crisply. She looked to Dorothy. "You know who I live with."

"Ah," said Dorothy. "You have a point." She turned to George. "She has a point, dear."

Danny touched my arm. "We'd better go and sit on the steps or something," he murmured. "Let 'em think we heard nothing."

We rose, went out through the hall to the front steps. The bottom one, which would become rotten in later years, was perfectly sound, though it took an effort of will to rest my weight on it.

With the closed door at our backs, we sat down and looked out at the road.

"So what does Ms Veder mean, her home situation is unsuitable?" I asked.

He grinned. "Don't tell anyone, but Mom told me that she lives with a pair of, uh, you know, women who like women."

"What, lesbians?" I asked bluntly.

He nodded and flushed. "Mom doesn't like that word. But yes, them. They're apparently very ... strong-minded about it. And she occasionally has to bring a man home, just so they are aware that she isn't that way inclined."

"Oh," I said. Realisation dawned. "And if she brought a teenage girl home, however innocently ..."

He nodded. "Yeah. They'd get the wrong idea."

I raised an eyebrow. "Hm. That could pose difficulties." I decided to change the subject. "So, how long have you guys lived here? It's a nice house."

It was, of course the house I had grown up in. There were a few changes, or rather, a few things that would be changed in the next twenty years. The sofa was not made to fold out into a bed, for one thing. And the TV was the old-style cathode-ray type. Also, the paint job was different.

In many small ways, it was different_._

Not the same house.

But it was familiar enough to make me feel homesick.

* * *

"Oh," said Danny. "Dad bought it last year. It's real nice. I like it a lot better than the old place."

I patted the wall. "Yeah," I said. "I think I'd enjoy growing up in a place like this."

He looked at me, and didn't speak. I looked at him. The moment stretched.

"Taylor," he began. "I –"

And then the door behind us opened, and Dorothy stood there.

I didn't know for a fact what Danny was about to say, but I would have bet on it being remarkably awkward, and so I was quite glad of the interruption.

"Well, it's settled," she said brightly. "Taylor, you'll be staying with us for the next few days, at least until Ms Veder can arrange alternative accommodation for you. If that's all right with you, of course."

I rose and smiled at my grandmother. "Of course it's all right, Mrs Hebert," I said gratefully.

"Sweetie, you call me Dot, okay?" she scolded me gently.

I nodded my head. "Dot," I amended.

She smiled again. "That's better," she said. "Come on inside now. I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

-ooo-

The bed in the upstairs spare room was narrower and harder than I recalled, but it was still quite serviceable. Nina helped Dot make it up for me, then hugged me goodbye.

"I'll be back in the morning, all right?" she said.

I nodded. "I'll see you then," I told her.

With another hug for Danny and a kiss on the cheek for Dot – George was still sulking in the kitchen – she left.

"Well," said Dot, brushing her hands off briskly. "Who's hungry?"

-ooo-

Dinner was a slightly strained affair; I spoke easily with Danny, and politely with Dot, but George was a glowering presence at the end of the table, one who was manifestly displeased at having his will overturned by two women. The fact that he was married to one of them was apparently not a mitigating circumstance.

After the meal was over, he stood abruptly. "Come on, Danny boy," he said. "Need a hand in the basement."

Whatever his personal flaws, George Hebert was a man who liked to work with his hands, and the downstairs workbench suited his purposes perfectly. In my day, it had been more or less disused; here and now, it had racks of tools over it, a vice, and several ongoing projects, each in their own space. I'm not much of a craftsperson myself, but I know good work when I see it.

* * *

So when he ordered Danny to go down with him, I was of course interested, and went to follow.

But Dot put her hand on my arm, and said quietly, "Best let the menfolk talk alone, dear. Help me with the washing?"

So I went and helped her wash the dishes. But the basement door let into the kitchen, and through it, I could hear the strong tones of George Hebert.

" ... don't care what you _think._ While she's in this house, you'll not go sniffing around after her, you hear?"

I didn't catch Danny's reply; the basement door was too thick. But I caught his father's next words.

"Call it what you will, boy. Now, you listen to me, and listen well. Yes, she'll be sleeping in the spare room tonight. But by the living Jesus, boy, if I catch you sneaking into her room, or her sneaking into your room, you will by God regret it. And so will she, because sixteen or no, homeless or no, if she breaks the rules of this house, she's out the front door, never to return!"

This time I heard Danny's voice; raised apparently in my defence, but not strongly enough to hear the actual words.

George's voice, however, came through loud and clear. "This is a Christian household, boy, and while you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules. Is that clear?" Danny must have mumbled something because he repeated himself, more loudly. "I said, is that _clear?"_

This time, he must have accepted the answer he got, because after a few moments, the basement door opened, and George came out. Danny followed him, and after one frightened look toward where we were innocently washing dishes, went and sat on the sofa. George went upstairs, and soon we heard the shower running.

Dot looked at me with a kindly expression. "Don't worry, dear," she said softly. "He's really a big softy underneath."

I nodded agreement, but underneath I wasn't so sure. George Hebert was a man with a lot of anger in him, and I doubted he rarely made threats that he did not carry out.

-ooo-

After washing up, I sat for a while on the sofa with Danny. By unspoken agreement, we kept a decorous distance between us, and kept the topics of conversation to strictly small talk. He didn't seem inclined to complete whatever statement he had been about to make out on the steps, which relieved me. After all, he was always going to be my father, even if this Danny would never be _my_ father. Any conversation along the lines that I suspected it was going to go would be incredibly awkward to at least one of us.

So eventually, I made my excuses and headed up to bed.

* * *

The bed, as noted, was hard and narrow, but I was worn out. Stripping down to my underwear, I lay down and pulled the covers over myself. And then I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the pad.

I wished I had not lost my powers. This far back? I would be one of the more accomplished capes around, in a fraternity that numbered a hundred at most. In fact, this was so far back that Vikare, the first superhero to appear after Scion, had been killed just earlier this year.

But when I tried experimentally, again, there was nothing there. My powers were gone, probably for good. Whatever gave them to me had been stranded in the future, twenty-two years away.

So there was nothing for it. I had to make do with what I had. Nina had loaned me the pad and pen, and I needed to write down everything I remembered. Everything Lisa had told me.

So I stared at the pad, and scribbled down stuff I recalled. I used the back of the pad, writing forward, and I used the simple cipher that I had devised for my original notepad, all those months ago.

But more often than not, I found myself drawing a blank. Lisa had told me lots of stuff, but in between the time travel, the ocean and the hit on the head, I was not retaining much of it. And I _needed_ this stuff. If I was going to change the world, I needed leverage. An edge. And that knowledge would give me the edge I needed.

If only I could remember it.

_Fuck._

* * *

End of Part 1-2


	4. Chapter 4

**Recoil**

* * *

Part 1-3: Oddities

* * *

_Brockton Bay was in flames. I watched, aghast, as the PRT building toppled and crashed on to its side; I could hear the Wards inside, screaming as the crumbling concrete and steel crushed them to death. The city was devastated from end to end. Behemoth towered over everything, destroying buildings, killing everyone who crossed his path._

_Alexandria swooped in to the attack._

_**No,**__ I told myself. __**Not Alexandria**__. I had killed her. Whoever this was, it wasn't Alexandria._

_He smashed her to the ground, crushed her underfoot. She didn't rise again._

_I had seen this coming. I had known this was to come. I stood on top of Captain's Hill and screamed,__**I'm a time traveller! I told you what was going to happen! Why didn't anyone listen to me?**_

_My dad was standing beside me. "Sorry, kiddo," he said sadly, "but time travel is impossible. Didn't you know?" He took off his glasses and handed them to me. I took them, uncomprehending, put them on. Seen through them, he was just nineteen or twenty, a younger version of himself._

_**But what does it mean?**__I asked._

_"What does anything mean?" he asked in return. He raised my chin in his hand; for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he was just studying my face. "You have a long, lonely road to travel, kiddo," he sad solemnly. "I don't understand it all, but I trust you. Listen to your friends."_

_And then he was seized from behind by a massive obsidian-clawed hand, and lifted into the air._

_**Dad**__!__I screamed._

_Behemoth, wearing the face of Alan Barnes, leaned close to him. "Sorry, Danny," he said confidentially, "but I've got to protect my daughter.". He squeezed, there was a burst of flame, and my father screamed, burst to glowing ash, blew away on the wind._

_**No!**__I shouted. Behemoth turned back to me, now looking like Director Tagg. His face twisted with mindless hate as he looked at me._

_He took one step toward me, and then Bitch's dogs barrelled into him, knocked him down. He bellowed with rage, exploded them with lightning, and Rachel with them. "Stupid little girl," he said. "This is war." He laughed brutally, then it turned to a chuckle as Mr Gladly adjusted his glasses, eyes tightly shut._

_"You have to understand, Taylor," he said earnestly. "I can't see anything. I'm not allowed to. It's for the good of the school."_

_Then he began to dance a jig. Regent stood there, waving his hands like a conductor. Behemoth-Gladly danced toward him. Regent backed up, waving his hands frantically. The Endbringer danced right over the top of Regent, crushing him like a bug._

_Darkness sprang up around Behemoth. He roared, fully the monster again, and lashed out with flame. Grue screamed, burning, his darkness fading. Then it was no more, and nor was he._

_Lisa stepped up beside me, hands pressed to her temples. "If I can think hard enough, I can fix everything," she told me. "If I concentrate hard enough, I'll know everything."_

_**So what happens next?**__I asked her._

_She grinned her vulpine grin. "I have no idea," she told me. Then her eyes went wide. "Look out!" she shouted, and shoved me aside._

_There was a thunderous boom, and when the dust cleared, she was lying on the ground, pinned at the hips by a massive squared-off piece of rock._

_**Lisa!**__I screamed._

_She looked more irritated than upset. "Damn," she said. "Happens every time."_

_I knelt beside her, cradled her head.__**Don't leave me,**__I sobbed.__**Not again.**_

_"Taylor," she said. "Remember. You have to remember."_

_**I'm trying,**__I told her.__**I can't. Too much has happened. I'm losing the information.**_

_"So ask Nine," she said. "She can probably help you."_

_**I ... I guess,**__I said.__**Okay, I'll do that.**_

_"It's really the only option," she told me. She gave me a weak smile. "Hey," she said. "Kiss before I go?"_

_I kissed her. Her lips tasted, as I knew they would, of dust and blood._

_"Huh," she said. "Nice.". Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard._

-ooo-

Someone was shaking me; I came awake with a start and a gasp. I fumbled for my glasses and had them pushed into my hand. At the same time, I reached for my bugs, to see where I was, what was going on. They didn't respond. I felt fear swell within me; _What's happened to my powers?_

The glasses weren't _my_ glasses; they corrected my vision imperfectly. But they corrected it enough for me to recognise the face of the woman standing beside my bed, leaning over me with an expression of motherly concern on her face.

Memory connected, and my incipient panic eased off. "Dot?" I asked to be sure. This was my grandmother, still in her late fifties; I could see echoes of my dad in her.

Details fell into place. I had been sent back in time by Phir Sē, to the year nineteen eighty-nine. In the process of travelling back, I had become disconnected from my powers.

But before I had been sent back …

I pushed that memory away. I didn't need to revisit it.

By some strange twist of fate, I had been rescued from the teeth of an October storm by the boy who would grow up to be my own father. As a result, I was sleeping in the spare room of the Hebert family home. But it wasn't _my_ home, and it probably never would be, now.

Dot nodded, and placed a cool hand on my forehead. "You were crying out in your sleep," she said. "Did you have a nightmare? I think you were calling for your father, and someone called Lisa?"

I blinked. The dream was fading rapidly, down to bare details; a scrap here, a flash there. I remembered seeing Grue die in flames, and I had a flash of true memory, his body pressed against mine, the last time we had been together, before I had given myself up. And then the shared moment of peace, of support, in New Delhi, just before everything had gone so horribly wrong.

_No._ Memories like that would do me no good, either. I needed the memories of what Lisa had told me.

"I … don't recall," I said. I was saying that a lot, these days. I was just glad that in this here and now, no-one had an Armsmaster-style electronic lie detector. That would have made my life a lot harder.

"But it's _something,_ isn't it?" she asked hopefully. "Lisa. A friend? A sister?"

"I think ..." I said slowly. "We might have been friends. Best friends. Almost as close as sisters." I shook my head. "I can't say more than that." I offered her a wan smile.

She took my hand and squeezed it supportively. "Well, it's a start," she said optimistically.

I nodded. "It's definitely something."

She beamed.

-ooo-

Breakfast was not quite as strained an affair as dinner the previous night had been. George, Danny's father, had apparently decided to ignore me in the hopes that I might go away. He was a big man, heavy-set, and prone to anger, and he did not appreciate having an outsider in his home without his express permission.

Dot spoke of the dream she had woken me up from. Danny was interested, but then, he would be. I was an exotic stranger, one that he had personally rescued from a watery grave. And, of course, a girl.

Dot had been kind enough to outfit me in one of her dresses. She was slender, though not quite as bird-thin as she would get in the next fifteen years, so it fitted well enough. So I supposed I looked at least a little feminine as I sat there at the table. Danny obviously thought so; he kept sneaking me covert glances when he thought his father wasn't looking.

_Great_, I thought as I spooned cereal and ate pancakes. _He's got a crush._ It felt a little weird; no-one had ever had a crush on me before, with the possible exception of Greg Veder, of whom the less said the better. But I had seen it before, in others, and the signs were unmistakeable.

I _liked _Danny, quite apart from the fact that he was a younger version of my own Dad. He was also a nice boy, eager to help, willing to throw himself bodily into peril for the sake of a stranger. He _had _saved my life; that was undeniable. And I _was_ grateful.

But I could not, dared not, reciprocate his attentions. Genetically speaking, he was my father. No matter what else, no matter how my body reacted to his glances - I had been startled to realise that I was at least a _little_ attracted to his younger self - there could be nothing between us, ever.

Besides, I knew when and where he was to meet my mother; that time and place had not yet come about. If I distracted him, made him less likely to notice her when they did meet, I could wipe my own future self from existence, which I did _not_ want to do. And finally, his happiest years had been when he was married to my mother; no matter what else I changed, I did not think I could bear to change _that_.

So I was almost relieved when George rustled his paper and growled at his son, a command to "eat your bloody breakfast and stop making a damn fool of yourself, boy!". Danny, abashed, applied his full attention to his pancakes and cereal thereafter.

"Mrs Hebert," I said brightly in an attempt to break the tension. She raised an eyebrow toward me. "Dot," I amended hastily. "These are lovely pancakes. What recipe do you use?"

Danny's mother immediately smiled and began explaining her pancake-making techniques in detail. I knew them well; Dad and I had made pancakes the same way for years. But I nodded and smiled and asked leading questions, and paid no attention to Danny whatsoever. It wasn't easy, as I did want to give him a sympathetic glance regarding his father's rebuke, but nor did I want to get him in trouble again. And I really didn't want him thinking that I was interested in him.

* * *

I was just helping Dot clear away the breakfast things when there was a knock on the door. Danny answered it; I heard him say clearly, "Hello, Ms Veder. How are you today?"

"I'm well, thank you, Danny," she greeted him, then came through into the living room. "Taylor, how are you today?'

I turned and gave her a smile. "I'm feeling much better today, thanks, Ms Veder," I told her.

"Good," she said cheerfully. "You look a lot better. No headaches, no disorientation?"

I shook my head. "I had a dream this morning." Dot would tell her anyway, and it would look strange to hold back.

Nina looked interested. "Oh? Do you remember any of it?"

"Not really," I said. "But Dot says I was calling out for my father, and for someone called Lisa."

"Lisa, huh?" she replied. "Does the name ring a bell?"

I frowned. "Not as such, but the impression I get is of a really close friend. Not a sister."

"Girlfriend?" suggested Nina. Dot snorted as she continued clearing plates. I recalled that she was a little old-fashioned in her views.

I smiled and shook my head. "No, not that close, I don't think. Sorry."

Nina nodded, unembarrassed. "Well," she said. "It's something to go on with, I guess."

"It is," I agreed. "It really is."

"Well, we have a bit to do today," said Nina. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'll just help Dot finish cleaning up here," I said, "and then I'm pretty well good to go."

Dot smiled at me. "It's all right, Taylor. I can manage from here. Thank you for your help, though." She gave me a hug, which I returned.

"Thank you for taking me in, Dot," I replied. "I really appreciate it."

She beamed at me. "You've brought a little excitement into our lives." She leaned close and lowered her voice. "And I think Danny likes you."

I blinked. "I ... but ... your husband ..."

She made a rude noise with her lips. "Oh, you never mind George. If he had his way, the sun would ask _his _permission to come up each day."

I blinked again. My grandmother had hidden depths. "Right." _Great, she's trying to matchmake me with my own dad._

She put her hand on my cheek. "Anyway, you just think about it, all right?"

I nodded and mustered a smile. "I will, Dot. Thanks."

Just then, George came stamping down the stairs, followed by Danny; both were wearing heavy work gear. "We're off, dear," said Danny's father, brushing past me and giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. "See you tonight."

"See you then, dear," Dot replied.

Danny looked at me, and I took pity on him. "See you later, Danny," I told him.

It was as if the sun had come up all over again. "See you later, Taylor," he said, and there was a spring in his step as he went out the door. Dot beamed at me.

-ooo-

Danny's father drove an old Ford pickup, as opposed to the sedan that Dad and I used to get around in. They were just pulling out of the driveway as Nina and I went out to her car, which was parked at the curb.

"So, you and Danny?" she said, as I got in.

I shook my head. "Not hardly," I said.

"Not even just a little bit of appreciation for having saved your life?" she asked teasingly.

"No," I said firmly. Perhaps a little too firmly. Nina looked at me perceptively.

"Something's the matter," she said. "You have a reason. Mind sharing?"

I shook my head. "Not really. It's just that George – Mr Hebert – laid down the law pretty firmly last night. If Danny comes 'sniffing around me' – his words, not mine – then I'm out on my ear. I don't want to get Danny in trouble, and I don't want to burn my bridges, so no matter what I might feel about Danny – or not feel about him, as the case may be," I added quickly, "it's strictly friendship, nothing more."

"Pity," she said reflectively, as she started the car. "Danny's a nice boy. Serious, but nice. You're serious too. I can see you two getting along well. And from the look on his face, I think he's got a bit of a crush on you already."

I sighed. "Yes, he's a nice boy. I do like him, just not in that way. And right now, I have other problems on my plate, as you well know. So can we talk about something else, please?"

She raised an eyebrow at that, quirked half a smile, but dropped the subject.

But somehow, I knew that this was not the last I would hear of it.

-ooo-

Our first stop was an optometrist, where Nina had my eyes checked, and purchased a couple of pairs of glasses in my prescription. I almost chose round lenses, like I always wore, but then I decided to go with rectangular frames. I needed to be a different person. I was Taylor Snow now, not Taylor Hebert. Taylor Snow was going to change the world.

But still, it was a huge relief to be able to see clearly at last. The optometrist noted a little reddening in my eyes, diagnosed mild eyestrain, and gave me a bottle of eyedrops which he said would clear it up.

"Damn," said Nina, as she packed away Danny's glasses for safekeeping. "You look like a different person in those. More serious. More determined."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said. I _was_ more serious, more determined.

"Actually," she said, "I've been meaning to say. You have strange posture."

I glanced at her. "Posture?" I asked.

"You stand … oddly," she explained. "Angular. You don't move much. You don't spend as much time glancing around as other people do. Do you have any idea why?"

I blinked. I did, in part. As Skitter, then as Weaver, I had had my bugs checking out my surroundings at all times. I hadn't _needed_ to look around. It wa a habit I needed to get back into. And I didn't move much, because if I was standing still, I was usually controlling thousands of bugs in dozens of different tasks. So I had gotten out of the habit of moving around, fidgeting.

"Sorry," I lied. "No idea. Maybe it's just a thing, with me."

She tilted her head. "Maybe. It could be a clue, something that will help you find out who you really are." She smiled. "Every little bit helps."

"I can only hope so," I agreed insincerely. "Where are we going next?"

Next, as it turned out, was the doctor.

-ooo-

Nina Veder, as a volunteer EMT, had given me as thorough a checkup as she was able, on the boat. But she was constrained in both her equipment and her training, and so she had booked me in to see a proper medical doctor.

Doctor French was middle-aged, slightly overweight, and apparently a good friend of Nina's. She sat in while he examined me.

The first thing he did was check me for after-effects of the concussion I had suffered. A pencil-torch was shone into each eye, checking for pupil dilation, while he asked me about headaches, nausea, forgetfulness.

"Only the amnesia," I told him. "I can remember everything after that fairly well." He nodded, made notes, went on.

"You have old fractures," he commented, manipulating my wrist. "Old injuries. Do you recall how you got them?"

I shook my head. "Not those ones, no," I said.

The scars on my wrist where Rachel's dog had bitten me, the scar on my forearm that I had gotten during the raid on the Merchants, he noted and went on. But when he found the scarring on my shoulder, he paused.

"This looks almost … medical," he said. "Surgical."

I shrugged with my other shoulder. "Sorry," I said. "I don't recall."

He glanced to Nina. "I'd like to X-ray this, if I could?" he said. "Whatever was done, I'd like to see what the result was."

Nina looked to me. I couldn't think of a viable excuse not to. "Sure," I said. "I guess."

-ooo-

"Well, _this_ is odd," said Doctor French, holding up the X-ray to the light.

"What's odd?" I asked. I already knew the answer, of course.

"You have a plug of metal bonded to the bone in your shoulder joint," he observed. "See, there?"

I looked, as did Nina. It was obvious, when you knew what to look for; a spot of much lighter material. It was all that was left of the dart that Flechette had stuck in my shoulder, back before she had defected to become Parian's lieutenant and lover.

"Metal?" I asked. "What sort of metal?" _Aluminium,_ I thought.

"From the density, something like aluminium, at a guess," said the doctor. "But I'd need a sample to be sure."

"Which would require a surgical procedure in itself," I guessed.

He nodded. "Yes."

"And am I in any danger, if you just leave it there?" I asked.

He shook his head, consideringly. "It looks old, healed. No inflammation. Whatever was done, happened awhile ago."

_Not much more than a month ago,_ I thought. But I had had that treatment from Scapegoat, which had apparently accelerated the healing of the surgical procedure that Brooks had carried out on me.

"That's really weird," I said. "Why would anyone operate on me, just to implant a piece of aluminium in my shoulder?"_Because the surgery wasn't to implant it._

"And there you have me," confessed Doctor French.

I worked my shoulder joint. "It doesn't _feel_ any different," I noted.

"It wouldn't," he told me. "If it did, you'd have noticed long before now."

-ooo-

"Well," said Nina, as we drove away. "Another few oddities to add to the list."

"Oddities?" I said.

She looked at me, just a glance, before putting her attention back on the road. "Taylor," she said, "I've seen less scarring on _soldiers._ You're barely seventeen, and you've either been horribly abused as a child, or you've been in some kind of war zone over the last few years."

_War zone,_ I thought. _Yeah, that was Brockton Bay all right._

She took a deep breath. "And I've watched you. Each time he found a new scar, you flinched, ever so slightly. I think you're recalling, consciously or subconsciously, how you got them." Reaching out, she put her hand on my arm. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I shook my head. "Sorry," I said. I hated to lie to her, but it was the only way to go on. "I got nothing."

She grimaced. "I was afraid you would say something like that. Well, we can keep trying."

She drove on.

I began to wonder if she suspected that I knew what had happened to me, and was just suppressing the memories, or even just refusing to talk about them. Which was, basically, the truth.

Whatever else she was, Nina Veder was not a stupid woman.

"So what next?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Clothes," she said cheerfully, "maketh the woman."

-ooo-

The Lord Street Market, twenty-two years earlier, was a different place. It was more staid, more measured, less frenetic and freewheeling. Each store had its own security, not the Enforcers of the latter day Market and Boardwalk.

It was oddly reminiscent of the shopping expedition that Lisa had dragged me out on, shortly after I had joined the Undersiders. I was less reluctant, less withdrawn, than I had been back then, but still, Nina's enthusiasm daunted me. I wasn't really in the mood for clothes shopping; I wanted to take my time, to window-shop, get my thoughts into shape about where I was going, what I was doing. But she didn't give me a chance to stop or protest.

Before I knew it, I found my arms full of clothes of varying cut and colour, and I was trying them on. Nina had almost as good an eye for what suited me as Lisa had, and it wasn't long before I had several complete outfits sorted out. Even I could see that they worked with me, even with the new image that I was trying to convey.

I also ended up with a purse, a handbag, shoes, sandals and underwear. I was a little surprised at how low the prices were, but then, the economy _had_ been better, twenty-two years ago.

"Are you sure you can afford all this?" I asked; it had to be a large chunk out of her pay.

She grinned at me. "I'll be putting it down as 'work expenses'," she told me. "Besides, you tell me that you don't look and feel better."

I looked down at the new outfit I was wearing; at Nina's insistence, I had changed in the ladies' restroom. It did look good on me; the jeans weren't as tight as the ones Lisa had had me wear, once upon a time, and the top didn't show quite as much belly, but I did like it. And several guys had given me the once-over after I had changed into it.

"Okay, fine," I admitted. "I like it. I just didn't want you thinking I was sponging off of you."

"Look at it this way," she said. "As soon as you're back in the system, I can step back and let the government take care of you. But until that point, it's apparently up to me."

I gave her a hug. "Thanks," I told her. "I appreciate it."

She hugged me back. "Hey," she said. "Just doing my job." Pulling away, she put her hands on my shoulders. "Lunch?" she asked.

"Lunch," I agreed.

-ooo-

We had lunch at an open air café. While we ate, Nina quizzed me on what I knew of current events. I was a little fuzzy on quite a bit of it, having to be careful not to 'remember' things that hadn't happened yet, but we were able to discuss Scion and the superhero phenomenon. Vikare had only died earlier that year, and there were still pictures of him up around the place, bordered in black ribbon. The first superhero to die.

He would not be the last, I knew.

There were the three members of the Triumvirate, of course, the godlike beings that wielded powers so far above mortal man that it was not possible to compare them. Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend. I knew of them, of course. I knew far more about them than Nina could possibly know at this point in time.

There was also Hero, the first Tinker, with his red and gold powersuit. He had been torn apart by the Siberian when I was five; this was still eleven years in the future. I couldn't help thinking of Kid Win, with the similarly styled armour. He wouldn't even be _born_ for another six or seven years.

Nina was full of speculations about the heroes, enthusiastic about the future. I didn't want to destroy her hopes and dreams, any more than I wanted to out myself by 'knowing' something that I could not possibly know, so I played along. The golden age of superheroes, having only just begun, had already begun to tarnish with the death of Vikare.

It would get a lot darker, in time. Those we had looked up to as heroes, as saviors, would be shown to be monsters. But Nina didn't have to know that, not right then. I would let her enjoy her illusions for a while longer.

Lisa had told me a lot about what was going to happen. But I didn't remember it all. I needed to remember.

"Nina," I said, interrupting a speculation on Legend's love life, and whether he and Alexandria were a couple, "is there any way I can get some sort of therapy to help me … well, remember? Remember those things that I've forgotten?"

She looked at me, pensively. "I might know someone," she said.

-ooo-

"Now, I'm not a fan of this sort of thing," she said as we walked into the office. "But I've seen cases where it's worked. And I trust this guy not to screw things up _too_ badly."

"Well geez, Nina," said the long-haired man behind the desk. "Thanks for the glowing endorsement. Good to see you again." He got up and kissed her on the lips. Then he looked at me. "And who's your friend?"

"Greg," she said. "This is Taylor. She's got a case of retrograde amnesia that we'd like to dig into."

_Greg?_ I thought. But again, he bore no resemblance to the Greg Veder that I knew. _Family friend? Boyfriend?_I speculated. _Maybe Greg is named after him._

"Indeed?" said Greg. "Hysterical or physical trauma?"

"She came off one of the boats in the storm the other night," explained Nina. "Bumped her head pretty bad, got a concussion out of it. Can't remember anything before that point. We're trying to get a lead on who she is."

"Hmm," said Greg. "Might not be possible, in that case. The human mind is a strange, strange place. Hysterical amnesia simply blocks off memories, but they can be retrieved. Physical trauma can literally destroy memories altogether. But we can have a shot at it."

"I've been having dreams," I volunteered. "I called out for my father, and for someone named Lisa."

"Oh," he said, much heartened. "That's good. That's really good. That gives me a handle I can use." He paused. "Has she had an MRI done yet? Just to make sure there's no ongoing brain injury?"

Nina shook her head. "Currently this is all on my dollar, and those things cost an arm and a leg. Plus, there would be a waiting list a mile long. Besides," she added, "she's got a piece of aluminium in her shoulder, bonded to the bone, too close to her head. I don't think it's worth the risk."

"Aluminium?" he asked. "What's a piece of aluminium doing in her _shoulder?"_

"I have no idea," she said frankly. "But there it is."

"Strange," he said.

"Tell me about it," she agreed feelingly. "So, can you help us?"

"We can only try," he told her, then looked at me. "So, Taylor, how do you feel about being hypnotised?"

"Hypnosis?" I asked. Was this what Lisa, or my subconscious, had intended?

I wasn't a fan of not being in control. Hated it, in fact. Being pushed around, being bullied. Being forced into things.

I didn't know this guy. Nina did, and I sort of trusted her, but that wasn't enough for me to trust _him_.

Stalemate.

"Uh ... is there any other way?" I asked. "Not that I don't trust you, but ..."

"But you don't trust me, I get it," he said. "Hypnosis is a scary thing to a lot of people. Fear of losing control of your actions."

I thought of Valefor, of Regent. _If only you knew._ But I said nothing, just nodded.

"Well," he said, "I can assure you, there's no way I can hypnotise you against your will, and nor can I make you do something while under that would go against your morals. But ... if you're simply not at ease with the idea of someone else being involved, I can offer an alternative."

"Which is?" asked Nina.

"Self hypnosis," said Greg. "It's a thing. I sell tapes that talk you through it. You can do it in the comfort of your own home. You basically sit down, get comfortable, put the tape on, and concentrate on what you want out of it while you follow the instructions. When the tape ends, it will bring you out of it. Perfectly safe. I've used it on myself dozens of times."

"So, no subliminal messages telling me to give you all my money?" I asked cautiously. Not that I _had_ any money, but still.

He chuckled. "That's another urban myth. Subliminal messages just don't work like that. In fact, they barely work at all."

"Well," I said, after a moment of thought. "I guess I can give it a shot."

-ooo-

I was alone; I had made sure of that. Greg was in the outer office; Nina was keeping him company. I had locked the door from my side. I was safe as I could make myself.

It was odd. I was still in the chair; I _knew_ I was in the chair. But at the same time, I was floating. My mind was dissociated from my body. I could hear Greg's voice on the tape, far away, talking, giving instructions, telling me to let go, to let myself drift. Behind that, I could hear the soft, repetitive music, soothing my mind.

In the forefront of my brain, I told myself, _Remember. I must remember what Lisa told me._

Greg's voice fell silent. The tape rolled on. The soothing music played.

And suddenly, I was no longer in the chair at all.

* * *

End of Part 1-3


	5. Chapter 5

**Recoil**

* * *

Part 1-4: Revelations

* * *

_I was back in the ruins of New Delhi. I crouched beside Lisa, where she lay, trapped under the massive, squared-off rock._

"_Hey," she said cheerfully. "Good to see you. Give me a hand shifting this thing? I can't feel my legs any more."_

_I dug my fingers under the edge of the rock, and heaved. The rock lifted away, and Lisa rolled out from underneath._

"_Good one," she said, climbing to her feet. "You finally got back here. I was starting to get bored."_

_**Wait, what?**__ I asked, letting the rock fall to the ground again. __**Is this real, or is it a dream?**_

_She grinned. "Yes."_

_I rolled my eyes. __**Oh, ha ha.**_

"_No, seriously," she said. "Can't it be both?"_

_**I had a dream this morning,**__ I said. __**You were in it.**_

"_The Behemoth thing?" she asked. "Yeah, I remember that bit. You've got a lot of issues, you do realise this, don't you? Alan Barnes betraying your father's trust, Director Tagg being a dick, that Gladly guy not wanting to say anything to rock the boat. And then there's the unresolved issues you have with Brian." She sighed. "Well, that bit's gonna have to stay unresolved. He never makes it off the oil rig, you know."_

_**Oil rig?**__ I asked. __**What oil rig?**_

_"Nothing," she said, sounding weary all of a sudden. "It's not something that you need to worry about."_

_**Okay,** I said. **So what do I have to do? And why does my voice sound funny?**_

"_Because you're actually speaking," she said. "You're mumbling out loud. You might want to keep your voice down a bit so Greg and Nina don't hear anything incriminating."_

_**You know about … them?**__ I asked, remembering at the last moment to not speak the names out loud. Greg and Nina might wonder why I was talking about them._

"_Well, duh," she said fondly. "I'm your subconscious. I know everything that you do, remember?" She paused. "Now, let's stop wasting time. You know the date."_

_**October eighteenth, nineteen eighty-nine,**__ I agreed._

"_Excellent," she said. "Now, what's the next significant date?"_

_Behemoth, I thought. __**I guess … him,**__ I said. __**The big guy. The first one.**_

"_Yup," she said. "Three years' time. December thirteenth, ninety-two. And then, on January eighteenth of ninety-three …"_

_**Ah,**__ I said. __**I get it.**__ And I did. I saw her plan. __**I know what I've got to do.**_

"_Exactly," she said. "But you're going to have to study like hell. Without your powers, you're going to have to do this the hard way."_

_That was something I had been wondering about. __**Did you know?**__ I asked. __**That I was going to lose them?**_

_She smiled and caressed my cheek. "Silly Taylor," she said cheerfully. "I told you; I know everything." She hopped down off of the block, gestured for me to follow. I did. She took my hand, and we strolled up and over what would have been a gentle rise, had it not been made up of blasted, scorched rock._

_Beyond was a structure, or at least the skeleton of one, where no such thing had existed in real life._

_**What's that?**__ I asked._

_"The beginnings of your memory palace," she told me. "It's going to hold all the stuff I told you, all the other stuff you knew without knowing you knew. All arranged and collated, ready for access. Ready for when you want to start making your plans." _

_**Christ,**__ I said. __**I didn't even know I could **_**do**_** something like this.**_

_You're not," she told me with a grin. "I am. Now, your time's almost up. Tape's about to run out."_

_**Wait,**__ I said. __**How do I know this isn't just another dream?**_

_She grinned, and whispered something in my ear. I blinked. __**Really?**_

_She nodded. "Yes, really. Now, we really are out of time. Kiss before you go?"_

_I pointed my finger at her. __**No tongue,**__ I said sternly._

_We laughed; I kissed her. Her lips tasted, as always, of dust and blood._

-ooo-

I blinked my way awake.

"Whoa," I said out loud. "That was weird."

She had seemed so real. Not dreamlike at all. So real, so very like the Lisa I had known, that tears prickled my eyes.

There was a knock on the door, startling me. _Greg and Nina._

Scrambling up off the chair, I went to the door and unlocked it. Nina stood there, hand raised to knock a second time. Greg stood behind her.

"Taylor," said Nina. "Did it work?"

"Uh, sure," I said. "I feel really rested and relaxed. That tape was awesome."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I meant did you manage to remember anything?" she asked.

"Actually, yes," I said, recalling what Lisa had whispered to me. "I remembered being told about Brockton Bay. How the bay was discovered by Captain Jeremiah Lord, and it was originally called Lord's Bay. Captain's Hill was named after him too. But when the township of Brockton was established by Isaac Brock, he took it on himself to rename the bay. Eventually, enough people referred to the settlement with the name of the bay that it stuck."

Nina frowned. "This isn't anything you can't learn from a history book."

I held up a finger. "_However_. Captain Lord returned years later, and was so angry about Brock renaming 'his' bay that he challenged the man to a duel. To placate him, Isaac Brock had the longest street in the township, and the port itself, named after Lord. The duel didn't go through, but apparently Lord and Brock never saw eye to eye after that."

Greg blinked. "Christ," he said. "I didn't know about that."

"That's because you moved here from New York," Nina told him. "That sort of thing only gets taught in the schools in and around the Bay.". She frowned. "And the bit about the duel ... I always thought that was embellishment."

I shrugged. I hadn't known about the duel either. But it sounded right. And then something else popped into my head. "The Brockton Bay Historical Society has a presentation on it," I added. "If anyone knows about the truth behind it, they would."

Greg raised a finger. "One second," he said, and picked up his phone and checking the directory. It only took a couple of minutes, then he put it down again. "She's right," he said. "There nearly was a duel, but the families of both men had it hushed up."

"Well, that settles it," said Nina. "You're from around here. What you said yesterday, about the city being almost familiar to you, you were right. You've lived here, at least a little while."

"Awesome," I said. "That tape ... would I be able to ..."

"Get a copy?" asked Nina. "Sure. And we'll pick you up a Walkman, too, and some headphones.". She glanced at me. "You'll be sure to tell me if you remember anything concrete?"

I nodded. "Sure," I said. "You'll be the first to know."

* * *

On the outside, I smiled. On the inside, I felt bad; Nina would never get the answer, the key to the puzzle called Taylor Snow.

But this was the way it had to be. I didn't know how a confirmed time traveller, with definitive news of the future, would be treated in the here-and-now that I was currently resident in, but in Brockton Bay, in America, of twenty-two years hence, the answer could be summed up quite succinctly: 'not well'.

Even presuming that a villain such as Coil did not get his hands on this hypothetical future time traveller, he could not be guaranteed a fair deal from the government, the PRT, or whoever else got final custody. I recalled how Dinah, an innocent in Coil's dealings, had been virtually threatened by Director Tagg for not giving him exactly what he wanted.

Brockton Bay of nineteen eighty-nine might be a kinder, gentler place in a kinder, gentler time, but I didn't trust it. Not when it came to my life, my freedom and my anonymity. And even if Nina promised not to tell, _intended _never to tell, things might yet get out. No, it was better to maintain my cover.

* * *

"Taylor, are you okay?" asked Nina. "You zoned out for a minute, there."

I mustered a smile for her. "Sure," I said. "Just thinking. Trying to see if there was any more to that memory. I think it might have been my grandpa who told me about the duel."

"Hey," said Greg. "That's great. So your family's been in Brockton Bay awhile then."

"Unless it's my grandparents that live in the city, and my parents visit from out of town," I pointed out.

"Hey!" said Nina. "No speculation. That's how false memories are created. Stick with what you know."

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am," I said meekly. I decided to build on the parents-from-out-of-town hypothesis, though; it seemed to fit the bill for my needs.

"Well, thanks for your help, Greg," she said, as money changed hands for the tape. "I appreciate it."

He kissed her again; once more on the lips, I noted. "Anytime," he said with a smile.

I grinned at her as we left the storefront. "So, you and him, huh?" I asked.

She sniffed disdainfully. "I have _no_ idea what you are talking about," she said loftily.

"Uh huh," I replied. "I'm amnesiac, not blind."

She met my gaze, and then we both grinned. We understood each other.

-ooo-

"So where to now?" I asked, once we were back in her car.

"Well, I have an actual paying customer this afternoon," Nina told me, "so I'm going to have to drop you off somewhere. The library, perhaps? I can leave you bus fare and directions on how to get to the Heberts' residence."

"How about the port?" I asked on a sudden impulse. "Maybe seeing it in operation will jog a memory or two."

"Or maybe you'll get to see Danny again," Nina pointed out.

"I have _no _idea what you're talking about," I professed, in my best imitation of her lofty tone from earlier. We both laughed. "But seriously," I said, "I'm wearing new clothes that actually look good on me, and I'd really like the chance to walk in sunlight and breathe some sea air, without having to hang on to a rail."

"Don't forget your coat," she reminded me. "It might be relatively warm out, but it _is_ October, and we did have that storm a couple days ago."

"Yes, Mom," I agreed with a grin. She wrinkled her nose at me. I laughed, took the coat from the bags, and got out of the car.

-ooo-

George Hebert worked on the docks until the day of his retirement; getting his Master's licence merely meant that he did a little less physical labour than before. However, he believed in his son getting out there and working for a wage, and so Danny went with him, even though all the manual labour in the world wouldn't give Danny a physique like his father's.

Dorothy worked in the Port Authority building as a secretary, which was how they had met, all those years ago. Back then, she had been a lowly member of the typing pool; now, she was well up in the hierarchy, and more people took orders from her than gave them to her.

I walked for a while, enjoying the early afternoon sun, then my footsteps turned toward the Port Authority building. Upon enquiring for Mrs Dorothy Hebert, I was escorted into her presence, to find her frowning at a large and blocky computer that was currently crouching on her desk.

"Hello, Taylor," she said with a distracted smile, then turned back to regard the intruding device somewhat balefully.

"Hi, Dot," I replied, taking my coat off. I was wearing a tee that covered my belly; I didn't want to embarrass Dot in front of everyone. "What's the problem?"

"The _problem_," she said, in terms of genteel severity, "is that head office has bequeathed this _thing_ upon us, into which we are supposed to enter data, where it will store it by some alchemical magic. Unfortunately, the rules by which it is supposed to operate have been only supplied in the most rudimentary and sketchy format. Apparently, an expert was supposed to be supplied in order to explain the rules to us. He has yet to make an appearance."

"Oh, okay," I said, approaching the device. Adjusting my glasses, I peered at the front of it. "A Hewlett-Packard nine thousand, huh?"

She looked around at me with mounting hope. "You can _use_ these things?"

"I _might_ be able to," I allowed, examining it closely. Finding the power switch, I pressed it on. The screen lit up with the startup sequence. This looked vaguely familiar.

Once upon a time, twenty years or so in the future, Mrs Knott had given us a relatively easy lesson, loading emulators from various old computer types into our desktop terminals. One had been of the older HP models, and I was fairly certain that this was one of the types that it had touched on. I had spent most of the period playing with it. It had been fun.

The trouble was, I didn't remember _exactly_ how it went.

The phrase _memory palace_ surfaced in my memory and bobbed there.

I took out my Walkman and headphones, and looked at Dot. "I think I can figure it out," I offered. "Is it okay if I listen to music while I do it?"

"Feel free to ride a unicycle and juggle chainsaws while you do it," she said expansively. "If you can decipher its mysteries, I shall be greatly pleased."

"Okay," I said. "Just please … don't let anyone else in the room for the moment, okay?"

She nodded firmly. "I can do that."

I grinned at her and pulled a chair over in front of the computer. Loading the tape into the Walkman, I fitted the headphones on and pressed PLAY. Closing my eyes, I let the music wash over me ...

-ooo-

"_Oh, hey," said Lisa. She was leaning back on a patio chair, with her feet up on a table, one leg crossed over the other. She had an electronic tablet in her hands. "That was fast."_

_I tried to articulate as quietly as possible. __**I need what you've got on the HP-9000. Fairly certain I played with an emulator at some point.**_

"_Ah," she said. "That would be ... life memories ... school days ... computer studies ..."_

_As she spoke, her fingers danced over the screen of the tablet._

"_Ah-ha!" she said triumphantly, and handed the tablet over to me._

_I found myself looking at a detailed emulator of the model in question. Labels marked out what keys entered what commands, and a sidebar informed me of the entire user startup list of commands._

_I went through it a few times, looked it over until I was fairly certain I could handle it, then passed the tablet back. __**Thanks**__, I said._

_She took the tablet from me, and grinned. "Just come visit occasionally, okay? I get lonely."_

_**Deal,**__ I agreed._

_She waved at a point behind me. "What do you think?"_

_I turned, and gaped._

_Before, it had been skeletal. Now, most of the spaces were filled in. It was enormous. It was magnificent. We sat on a patio in front of it. With my back to them, I had not noticed the fountains spilling crystalline droplets into the sky, where they fell back with enchanting slowness._

_**Why is it so big?**__ I asked, barely moving my lips._

_"Lots of memories," she explained. "A room for each one."_

_**Wow,**__ I said. __**Definitely coming back.**_

_As I stood, so did she. We hugged. I kissed her. It was becoming a ritual. Despite her relaxed, bathed appearance, despite the luxury of our surroundings, her lips still tasted of dust and blood._

_Some things, it seemed, never changed._

_It was a stark reminder of what had happened. What could still happen again._

-ooo-

I clicked off the Walkman and blinked. The computer was up and running, all systems nominal. It had been all set up while I was out.

Pulling the headphones off, I looked around, wondering who had worked around me while I had been zoned out. No-one was near me; however, half a dozen people, including several other members of the secretarial staff and an older man who was possibly Dot's boss, were peering through the doorway, staring at me. Dot was making sure they didn't enter, as I had asked.

So who had done the work?

_It must have been me, while I was under, _ I realised. It unsettled me just a bit, in much the same way as it used to unsettle me when my 'passenger' would have my bugs do stuff while I was distracted, asleep or even unconscious. _I didn't know that I could do that._

"Well, it's ready to roll," I said, trying to inject cheer into my voice.

The man I assumed to be Dorothy's boss took a step forward; she let him past. "Can you, uh, do that with any of those things?" he asked. I looked at his name tag; it read WALTON.

"Sure, I guess," I said. "I'm no expert, but ..."

There was a general chuckle from the other people at the door; apparently they thought I was either joking or being modest. Mr Walton took another step forward. "Miss, uh ..."

"Snow," I supplied. "Taylor Snow. I'm staying with Dot, uh, Mrs Hebert, at the moment."

He smiled and nodded, as if that constituted an ironclad reference. "Well, Miss Snow, you seem to have a better grasp of the mechanics of that device than any of the rest of us old dinosaurs." He paused. "Are you ... currently ... employed?"

I had to chuckle. "Mr Walton, sir, I'm only –" _Sixteen? No, go for broke. Say seventeen. Dad always said I was smart enough to skip a grade, anyway. If I hadn't been bullied ... _" – seventeen. Still in school."

He nodded understandingly. "We can work around that. How would you like a job?"

-ooo-

My job title was 'part-time secretarial assistant', nominally attached to Dot.

In reality, I was the computer guru. I would be the one tasked with getting the computers up and running, showing people how to use them, coaxing them back into operation when things went wrong, and in general, making the system work. I could work as many hours as I wished, afternoons and weekends, and Dot would square it with Mr Walton.

I was fully aware that I would not be getting paid nearly as much per hour as an adult computer tech would have been – but I was still a minor. And it was still a very decent paycheck.

* * *

I had to refer to the memory palace several times more that afternoon; after the second time, no-one seemed to consider it strange when I ushered them from the room, put my headphones on, started the tape, and went into a semi-trance for a few moments. They were just glad I was getting the damn things up and running.

While I consulted with the emulator, I chatted with Lisa, who seemed to be able to work on her own tablet – she had an endless supply – without ever looking at what she was actually doing. Though I wasn't quite sure what she was working _on._

And not once did I bring up the one question that I felt could bring it all crashing down.

_Is it really you, Lisa? Or is it just an extremely detailed hallucination?_

I truly wanted it to be one, but I feared that it was the other.

I decided that if I never questioned it, I would never have to find out the real answer.

For the moment, that was good enough for me.

-ooo-

I was waiting outside with Dot when Nina pulled up in her sedan. She got out and approached us. "Hello, Taylor," she said. "How was your afternoon?"

"Extremely productive," put in Dot, before I could speak. "Your little castaway here is apparently a computer genius."

I blushed, and Nina raised her eyebrows. "Computer genius?" she asked.

Dot nodded, and then proceeded to regale Nina with a very slightly embellished account of my exploits. Nina's eyes widened when she found that I had been gainfully employed by the Brockton Bay Port Authority, to run its computer systems.

"So how did you know what to do?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "Just did, I guess."

Nina made a dissatisfied noise. "Doesn't really help. But your upbringing must have been fairly esoteric if you know how to use those machines; they've only been around for a few years."

I nodded in agreement. "So is it a clue, or not?"

Nina chuckled wryly. "I'll let you know."

-ooo-

The next to arrive were Danny and George. They started work much earlier than Dot, so they drove in, while Dot caught the bus. But they finished at roughly the same time, so all three would go home in the old Ford truck.

George stumped up to us, kissed his wife on the cheek, and growled, "What's _she_ doing here, bothering you for?"

'She' being me, of course. Stung, I opened my mouth to reply, but then I caught a very slight head-shake from Danny, standing just a little behind his father. I decoded it with no problem. _Let Mom handle this. _It was good advice. I shut my mouth again.

"Well, dear," said Dot with a smile, "Taylor here just went from being a houseguest to being a _paying_ houseguest."

George's head turned sharply at that; Danny stared at me, impressed.

"Just until I can get my own place," I ventured.

"Pish tosh," retorted Dorothy, waving a hand dismissively.

I blinked; did people actually _say_ that?

"A seventeen year old girl," continued Dot, "should not be living on her own in this city, not when there are good Christian folk who can put het up, give her shelter. Don't you agree, George?'

George frowned, outmanoeuvred. "So what's this job?" he growled.

Dot explained about the computers and how no-one else could make head nor tail of them. "She'll be showing us how, keeping them running," she concluded. "Mr Walton was very impressed."

George snorted dismissively. "Computers. Huh.". He paused, and turned to me. "Well, young lady, if you can keep yourself out of trouble, and if you can pay your own way, then you might as well stay on."

He turned and stumped toward the truck before I could answer. I blinked. That was possibly the most positive thing he had said to me yet.

"Computers," I heard him mutter. "Can't see the use in them."

Dorothy and I shared a conspiratorial smile. He might grumble, but so long as I behaved myself and paid my way, he could not object to my presence in his home.

* * *

I wondered how long the job would last; surely the missing expert would turn up eventually. But then, Mr Walton might just let them know that the man was no longer required; after all, he was paying me minimal rates for doing the same thing.

I decided not to worry about it. I wanted to explore this 'memory palace' concept some more. I was starting to get the idea that Lisa, with her expanded powers, had _done_ something to my head, back there in the ruins of New Delhi. I didn't know what or how, and I was apprehensive about asking, lest it break the spell, but it was starting to look very useful for the task at hand.

-ooo-

"Computer genius, huh?" asked Nina, as we followed the Heberts home.

I shrugged. "I dunno. It looked familiar to me, so I decided to try the tape on a hunch. I obviously learned how, somewhere, because when I opened my eyes again, I knew how."

"But you don't recall the lessons, who taught you, where you were, anything like that?" pressed Nina.

I shook my head. "Just basically sitting in front of one, typing. Using UNIX. I'm not a computer genius, but I get the impression I know a little bit about them."

"More than I do," she agreed. "I'm fairly sure what you just said wasn't the plural for 'eunuch', but apart from that, no idea."

"It's an, uh, operating system," I clarified. "There's several. The computers at Dot's work run on one called UNIX." I spelled it.

"I'm fairly sure they're not teaching that sort of thing in schools these days," Nina observed. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong places. Maybe you're one of those people who skipped straight into college-level courses."

"I'd be fairly prominent then, if I was," I objected. "My face would be out there. You would have found out who I was, fairly easily."

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. Damn."

I shrugged and smiled. "Sorry. We'll get there."

"Well, at the very least," she said with a return smile, "it's interesting."

-ooo-

"Mom's really impressed with you," said Danny.

We sat on the back steps with the door open, a careful distance between us. Above us, the sky purpled toward twilight.

"I think she's really great too," I said. "You're very lucky."

"Yeah, well," he said. "She was talking about how you were setting up the computers." He turned his head to look at me. "How do you know so much about computers?"

I shrugged. "Learned somewhere, I guess. Can't remember where."

He nodded. "Dad thinks they're just another toy that'll go away, but I'm thinking they're more than that. I mean, I've watched Star Trek. I know they're not that great yet, but maybe sometime in the future ..."

I hid a grin. _Sooner than you think._ "I think so too," I said earnestly. "Pretty soon, anyone who doesn't know how to use one is going to be on the back foot."

He nodded. We were silent for a few moments.

* * *

When he spoke again, I could hear a particular tone in his voice and I sighed internally.

"Taylor," he said carefully, keeping his voice low, "I think I ..."

I cut him off. "Danny," I said quietly, "please stop there."

He stopped speaking, staring at me, hurt in his eyes. It was like I'd just kicked a puppy. I felt terrible.

"Listen to me, Danny," I said just as quietly. "You saved my life. I am grateful Very grateful. You're my friend, and I think you're a great guy. But ... we're living under your father's roof, and we will abide by his rules. It's that simple."

"We could move out," he offered. "You've got a job, I've got a job. We could find a place -"

"_No,"_ I said, as firmly as I could, while keeping my voice down. "Danny. Please. Don't do this. Don't raise your own hopes."

He stared at me, bewildered. "But _why?"_ he asked me.

I took a breath. "I can't tell you. Really, I can't. But there's a very good reason. One day, maybe, I'll tell you. When it doesn't matter any more. But right now ... I can't be with _anyone."_ I looked at him seriously. "Do you understand?"

He shook his head. "No, Taylor, I don't. I really don't." My heart sank. And then he continued. "But if that's the way you want it to be, then that's the way it'll be. If I'm to be your friend, then I'll be your friend, and not push."

I leaned back and looked up as the stars began to come out, overhead. "Thanks, Danny," I said softly. "I really appreciate that."

His hand found mine and squeezed momentarily. I squeezed back.

"Hey," he said. "What are friends for?"

* * *

End of Part 1-4


	6. Chapter 6

**Recoil**

* * *

Part 1-5: Getting Established

* * *

_The yacht drifted at anchor, rising and falling on the gentle swell. A crystal-blue sky overhead, deep green water beneath. Seagulls circled overhead, wings barely moving as they drifted on the air currents._

_Lisa lay at ease on a lounger on the aft deck, wearing a one-piece swimsuit that looked rather like her regular costume with the arms and legs removed. She looked up from rubbing on suntan lotion as I approached._

_"Hey," she said, flashing her vulpine grin and raising her oversized sunglasses slightly. "You dream a nice yacht. I'm impressed."_

_I took the seat next to hers. __**This **_**is**_** just a dream, right?**__ I asked, looking around._

_"Just a dream, sure," she said cheerfully. "And, you know, not."_

_**... right,**__ I said. __**I'm sure that'll make sense when I wake up.**_

_"Well," she said cheerfully, "it __**is**__ all in your head, if that makes you feel any better."_

_**I'll get back to you on that,**__ I decided. __**While I'm here, do you have any other pearls of wisdom?**_

_She picked up the umbrella drink that had not been beside her ten seconds earlier - or had it? - and sipped at it. "Well," she said at length, "you're pretty well on track for the moment. The question of school will come up. Don't ask to go to Arcadia; it hasn't been established yet. Winslow's your best bet there. When you get there, remember that Ms Blackwell isn't the principal, just another teacher." _

_**So I'm going back to Winslow again,**__ I grumped. _

_"Well, it'll be the first time for __**them,**__" she observed, sounding amused. "And of course, there will be a certain lack of some people."_

_I nodded. Emma, Sophia, Madison. The three bitches who had made my life hell. __**There'll be others like them,**__ I pointed out. __**There's always bullies.**_

_"True," acknowledged Lisa. "But they won't have a specific reason to pick on you, other than the fact that you're new. That'll wear off. And seriously, you've gone toe to toe with the likes of Leviathan and Alexandria. You've faced off Tagg and Armsmaster. Are you going to let a bunch of high-schoolers scare you?"_

_I said slowly, __**Well, I don't have my powers any more ...**_

_She sat up, raised her sunglasses, and gave me a stern look. "It's not about powers," she said flatly. "Powers are a means to an end. In the end, it's what's in __**here **__that counts." Her fingertip tapped on my sternum._

_**It would be a lot easier **_**with**_** powers,**__ I pointed out._

"_You always refused to use your powers on the bitches anyway," Lisa pointed out. "So how is this different?"_

_I thought about that. __**It isn't, I guess,**__ I said. __**Except that now I can't ditch class to go rob a bank or something. I don't have you guys to go hang with.**_

"_Oh, you'll always have me to hang with," Lisa assured me. "As for not robbing banks, nor will you have the responsibility of a territory to oversee. You'll be able to actually __**be**__ a teenager for the first time ever."_

_**I don't know how,**__ I protested. __**The only time I was able to be a teenager was when I was with you guys. And you can't say that was a normal time.**_

_She grinned at me. "Well, now you've got a chance to learn how," she said cheerfully. "But it's about time for you to wake up. Have a nice day. I'm going for a swim."_

_Getting up from the lounger, she leaned down and kissed me. Her lips tasted of dust and blood. _

_Then she turned and dived off the edge of the boat into the deep green ocean. Water splashed up, and some got me in the eye. I blinked …_

-ooo-

… and I was awake.

I rolled over and sighed.

It was always hard to see Lisa and be reminded all over again that she was dead, that what I spoke to in my dreams, in the hypnotic trance, wasn't her at all, just a construct that my subconscious had thrown together.

Unless it wasn't. In which case I had no idea what was going on.

Still, on one level it was nice to see her, to talk to her. It gave me a certain amount of comfort, of confidence.

I climbed out of bed and padded out of the spare room, down the hall between the other two bedroom doors, to the bathroom.

* * *

When I was finished, I went back to my room and changed out of my brand-new pyjamas – _thank you, Nina_ – to my sweats and running shoes. Nina had raised an eyebrow at these, but I had told her that I needed them.

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I headed downstairs as quietly as I could.

Not quietly enough, apparently; boards in the hallway creaked, and so did the stairs. I was almost at the bottom when a tousle-haired, pyjama-clad Danny appeared at the top, rubbing his eyes.

"Taylor?" he queried sleepily. "Where are you going?"

"Out for a run," I said, pitching my voice just loud enough for him to hear. No sense in waking up George and Dot; he would be irritable about being woken early on a weekend, and she would be concerned about me running. I had pepper spray in my pocket, once more courtesy of Nina, but she didn't need to know about that either.

Danny came down a couple of steps. "Running?" he asked, sounding confused. "Won't you get lost?"

I shook my head. "I have a good sense of direction," I told him. "Besides, I'll just stick to the nearby streets."

"Wait a minute," he said. "I'll come with you."

I opened my mouth to frame a refusal, but he had already disappeared back upstairs to his room. I suppose I could have left while he was getting ready, but that would have been mean.

To his credit, he was downstairs in fairly short order. The running shoes looked new; I figured that he was using his work boots far more often.

As he let us out the back door, I asked – quietly, as I knew that his parents' bedroom was directly above – "Do you run much?"

He waited until we were out the side gate before he answered. "Not really, but I've been working down at the port with Dad. I'm a lot fitter than I used to be."

_Well,_ I thought, _we'll see._

-ooo-

As it turned out, he wasn't all that unfit. However, he had not been running in some time, if ever, and it showed. I had to stop several times to let him catch his breath, but he always doggedly got back into stride again. In the end, though, we turned for home before I had done half of my planned run. I shrugged mentally. There was always tomorrow.

We walked the last hundred yards as a cooldown; I was breathing heavily and sweating just a little, but he was panting like a steam train and perspiring heavily. However, he was still steady on his feet, which I counted as a plus.

"Do you do track and field or something?" he asked as he got his breath back.

I shook my head. "I don't think so," I said. "I think I've just got a routine or something. I woke up and decided I wanted to go for a run."

"Wow," he said. "I thought I was fit, working at the port. I think I've got a ways to go."

"We've all got areas we can improve in," I pointed out. "You've got upper body strength that I'll never have."

"Yeah," he said. "I guess."

* * *

When he opened the back door, Dot was in the kitchen making breakfast. She looked around in some surprise. "Danny?" she asked. "And Taylor? I thought you were both still in bed."

"Oh, uh, sorry, Dot," I said awkwardly as I came up the steps behind him. "I wanted to go for a run, and Danny came along to make sure I'd be okay."

She eyed me speculatively, then glanced at Danny. He nodded. "It was more like Taylor went for a run, I went for a stagger," he said ruefully.

"So, not a romantic walk to watch the sun rise over the Boardwalk then," she observed, sounding mildly disappointed.

I shook my head. "Not hardly. Sorry. Danny's nice. But ..." I broke off, trying to find a diplomatic way to say it.

"But you're just not that interested in him?" she suggested gently.

"Mom!" protested Danny, blushing.

She smiled and patted him on the cheek. "You go upstairs and shower, young man," she advised him.

"Okay, Mom," he said. Turning to me, he added, "I'd like to go running again, if you don't mind me holding you back. I think I need to do more of that."

I shrugged. "Sure," I said. "We can do that."

He grinned, then turned and headed into the front hall.

* * *

As his footsteps receded upstairs, Dot turned to me. "So you run in the mornings?" she said.

I nodded, hitching one hip up on the table. "Apparently so," I confirmed. "It did seem really familiar," I added truthfully. "Ms Veder says that if I do familiar things, it might open up a memory."

"So _did_ it help bring anything back?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Not yet, but I have hopes. Ms Veder seems to know what she's talking about."

"Nina Veder is a smart girl," Dot told me. "She knows her stuff. Helped a cousin of mine. I've got a lot of time for her." She lowered her voice. "I just wish she'd be more careful of the company she keeps."

I blinked, trying to work out what she meant. Then light dawned. "Oh – her roommates?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes," she said, keeping her voice low. "Did she tell you about them?"

"Something like that, yeah," I said, then frowned. "But I don't really see the problem."

She shook her head disapprovingly. "You young people and your ways. I just don't think it's a Christian act."

* * *

If there was anything that was going to remind me of the era I was in, that was it. Legend had not come out yet; his marriage was still years in the future. The revelation that a member of the Triumvirate was gay had done a lot to foster acceptance of the homosexual community; when Flechette had quit the Wards to be with Parian, the scandal had been all about her defection, not her preferences.

And my own grandmother was a bigot, even in her own restrained way. It was a shock to the system.

But there was nothing I could tell this sweet old lady that would change her mind, would make her re-evaluate her views. I didn't know how she would react when Legend revealed his orientation; it might change her mind and it might not. But it wasn't something I could talk about now.

Another thought intruded. _She might be wondering about me, given that I've shown a distinct lack of interest in her son._

I forced a smile. "Well, you don't have to worry about me," I reassured her. "I _am_ interested in boys. Just … not right now, you know?"

She smiled, and seemed to relax slightly. "That's good, dear," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Now, would you like to help me with the pancakes while Danny finishes his shower?"

"Love to," I replied.

-ooo-

Saturday morning breakfast was a more relaxed affair. George came down in his shirtsleeves, and Danny was dressed in t-shirt and jeans after his shower. Following our discussion of the evening before, and the morning run, Danny was treating me as just another person at the table, which was more or less what I needed. George seemed to pick up on the difference in his behaviour, and shot his son a few suspicious glances; Danny affected not to notice.

Dot and I were just finishing the washing-up when Nina Veder knocked on the door. Danny let her in, and she strolled through to the kitchen.

"Ready to go, Taylor?" she asked.

I frowned. "Go?" I asked. "Go where?"

"Well, first to the police station, to make sure that you're not a wanted felon. Secondly, if they've still never heard of you, to the local court registrar to have some temporary identification made up for you. Get you back into the system. And thirdly, we need to discuss which school you'll be going to, if they haven't figured out who you really are."

"Oh," I said. "Wow. Okay." I looked down at myself. "Should I change?"

She tilted her head to one side. "No, you look tidy enough. Maybe brush your hair?"

I trotted upstairs, came down with the brush that – once again – Nina had bought me. "I can do it in the car," I suggested.

"Good idea," she agreed.

"Wait a minute, you're going out?" asked Danny.

"Um, yeah, looks like it," I said. "Why?" _Oh great,_ I thought. _Here we go._

"I was gonna call up Alan, see if he wanted to come over," explained Danny. "Him and Zoe just had a baby. I thought you might like to meet them. They're good people."

_Shows how much __**you**__ know, _I decided not to say.

"Red-haired guy?" I asked, though I knew full well that it was.

He nodded, looking surprised. "That's right. How did you know?"

I grinned briefly. "Me and Ms Veder passed him on the pier when we were getting off the boat."

"Oh," he said. "Oh. Right." He grinned and shrugged. "I just thought, you don't know anyone around here, so …"

I nodded. "I understand, and I appreciate it, Danny. It's just that my plate's kind of full today. Maybe another day?"

"We could invite the Barneses over for Sunday dinner," suggested Dot from the kitchen door. "Taylor could get to know them then."

"That sounds reasonable," I agreed. "But we've got to get going. See you all later."

-ooo-

We made our way to the car. As we got in, Nina looked at me oddly.

"What?" I asked.

"The bottom step," she said. "You never step on it. You always jump over it. Why is that?"

"I … what?" I asked. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Should have been watching for that._ "I didn't realise."

"Interesting," she noted. "Something that might provide a clue." She put the car in gear. "Also, I note that you and Danny no longer have that tension between you. Care to share?"

I shrugged. "Nothing to share. Last night, I told him that I wasn't interested. In the nicest way possible, of course."

"And how did he take it?" asked Nina. Her eyes were on the road, but I could tell she was giving me her full attention.

"Very maturely," I said. "We're currently just good friends." I paused. "Oh, and apparently I like going for a morning run."

"Oh, you do, do you?" asked Nina. "Did it, uh, jog loose any memories?"

It took me a moment to get the pun, then I groaned. Nina looked very pleased with herself. "That was _bad."_

She nodded cheerfully. "I know, but seriously, did it help you remember anything?"

"Nothing concrete," I told her, "but I think I've been doing it for a while."

"That's good," she said. "That's very good. Another piece for the puzzle."

"Unfortunately," I added dryly, "it's not a corner piece."

"Every little bit helps," she observed. "For now, we'll just take it one day at a time."

-ooo-

"Well, she's not in the system anywhere we can see," the police sergeant told Nina. "No descriptions that match closely enough to matter, no hospital records. Fingerprints, nada." He shrugged. "I've seen it before, with people who just wanted to drop off the face of the earth, kids of itinerant families. It's rare, but not unheard of."

He looked over at me. "But usually we can just ask them who they are, where they're from." A fatherly grin. "Of course, then we get the tough ones like you, who are fully competent, but can't remember a thing."

I shrugged. "Sorry," I said.

"Well, the best we can figure is that she's from Brockton Bay or somewhere nearby," said Nina helpfully.

"That's something, I guess," agreed the sergeant. "We'll keep looking; if anything pops up, we'll let you know." He handed over a sheaf of papers. "In the meantime, here's everything you gave us on Miss Snow. Medical report, plus fingerprints and so on. Take that to the court registrar, and you shouldn't have too much problem with getting her issued temporary identification."

-ooo-

The registrar was a fussy bald man, at least sixty, who would have been as skinny as me, if not skinnier. He peered at me over rimless spectacles, then at Nina.

"So she isn't your daughter?" he said querulously.

Nina shook her head. "No, she is not."

"And you can't find any next of kin?"

"No, sir, we can not," she confirmed.

He addressed me directly, this time. "Young lady, you have no memory of your family, or where you're from?"

I shook my head. "No, sir," I said. "I'm fairly sure my name is Taylor Snow –" half true, half a lie – "but beyond that, there's not much to go on. They pulled me out of the ocean after that big regatta smash-up."

He adjusted his glasses. "I see. Well, these documents seem to be in order. Medical information, identifying marks, fingerprints. An affadavit that these documents are true and correct, and all refer to the same person; that is, you. And a sworn statement by a medical professional, one Edwina Veder, MD, PhD, that you are of sound mind and sound body, and are fit to enter society."

He filled out a form with crabbed handwriting, had me sign it, then stamped it with what seemed to be unnecessary enthusiasm. Passing the form to me, he said, "Take good care of this, Miss Snow. According to this document, you are once more a productive member of society. It will serve as your legal identification until you can get something more binding."

"Can I … can I get copies?" I asked tentatively. "In case I lose it, or it gets damaged, or something?"

He smiled austerely. "Certainly. Twenty-five cents per photocopy, and I can have the copies certified."

I glanced at Nina – _Edwina? – _questioningly. She nodded. "Not a bad idea, Taylor. Yes, sir, we would like that."

It took a little more time, but a creakingly ancient xerox machine spat out four copies, Nina paid an extra dollar, and the registrar stamped each of them with a different stamp and signed them as being "true and accurate copies of the original document".

Each of us shook hands with the old man, and he wished us a good day. As we got up to leave, he was pulling down the shutters.

-ooo-

Outside, with the original and three copies in my bag, and the fourth in Nina's, I turned to her. "Edwina?" I asked. "Really?"

She heaved a deep sigh. "My parents thought they were getting a boy, and had chosen Edward as a name, okay? So when I came along, they couldn't think of a good name, and settled for the closest girls' equivalent."

We got into the car. "So … did they ever actually call you 'Eddie'?" I asked as I buckled myself in.

"For about one week," she confirmed. "A week during which I refused to acknowledge the name. So we compromised and went with Nina." She started the car and put it in gear.

"So why not change it by deed poll?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Ever hear the Johnny Cash song 'A Boy Named Sue'?"

I frowned. "I think I know it."

"You think the guy in the song ever thought of just changing his name? Ride into a new town and call himself Jim-Bob or George or something?"

I shrugged. "Not really. I guess he just got used to it."

She nodded. "Same with me. I'm used to the fact that my given name is Edwina, but I call myself Nina, and that's all everyone has to know about me." She looked at me. "Make sense?"

I grinned at her. "Sure thing – Edwina."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, get it out of your system."

I shook my head and chuckled. "I'm done. Sorry. I shouldn't make fun of your name."

She half-shrugged. "Oh, I used to make fun of it all the time." A side glance at me. "Lunch?"

"Yes, please," I agreed. "Becoming a real person again is hungry work."

-ooo-

Lunch was almost over. I had had a pita wrap with sun-dried tomatoes, and Nina had demolished a vegetarian quiche. I was sipping my tea when Nina leaned back in her chair.

"So, Taylor," she said. "Now we get to the unpleasant task of deciding which bastion of education will have to bear the brunt of accepting you within its hallowed halls."

"What school I'm going to?" I asked.

"If you want to reduce it to such tawdry terms, yes," she agreed, nibbling at a sugared doughnut.

"Uh, what options are there?" I asked.

"Not many, I'm afraid," she said. "Immaculata is a private school, predominantly Catholic. Do you know if you're Catholic?"

I shrugged. "No idea."

"Grantley is a public school, but it's not in the best of shape," she went on. "Five gets you ten it folds in the next three years."

I didn't know about three years, but I knew it wasn't going to last twenty-two years. I had the vague idea that Arcadia had been established on the old Grantley campus.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Winslow. It's a good school, from what I hear. Strong in athletics, and they regularly compete well in academic challenges."

_How the mighty have fallen, _I thought. Or would fall. Or whatever.

"Well, it sounds like Winslow's the pick of the bunch," I observed.

Nina nodded. "Well, as it happens, I spoke to the principal of Winslow this morning."

"And …?" I prompted, when she paused.

She smiled widely. "And he's willing to see you this afternoon, if that's the one you want to attend," she told me. "All we have to do is call ahead."

"So wait," I said. "You already chose this one for me?" I felt vaguely insulted, despite what Lisa had said in my dream that morning.

She shook her head, still smiling. "No. _You_ chose. I merely anticipated your choice."

"And if I'd decided that I was Catholic?"

A half-shrug. "I'd be making a call to Immaculata instead."

"Huh," I said. "You called them all."

She nodded. "No sense in not hedging my bets." Getting up, she dusted crumbs off of her legs. "Well, ready to go and see what Winslow looks like?"

I grinned, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. _It won't be like it was when I first went there,_ I told myself firmly. _It'll be totally different._

"Let's go to school," I agreed.

* * *

End of Part Six


End file.
